In Her Eyes
by Katherine Kelly
Summary: Meg Giry has returned to the renovated Opera Populaire, determined to find her place in the limelight. The Opera Ghost is dead and gone... or is he? Mostly 2004 movie based and some LeRoux in later chapters. Chapter 28 at last! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place 1 year and 10 months after the fire at the Opera Populaire. **

_**Prologue **_

Meg could feel the warmth of the gas lights on her face, and she could hear the melody of the orchestra music filling her soul. She was finally back, back on stage, back to her home. She could hardly contain her excitement. She spun and danced as though there was a full audience in the empty theatre with all eyes on her. The blissful feeling she had to be once again on the stage at the Opera Populaire, after almost two years of waiting was almost indescribable. She didn't care that no one was watching, or that no one was there except for the new managers and the stage hands. In her mind everything was as it once was. The opera was alive with all the sounds of a sold out show, and she was ready for them. She was ready to feel happiness and wholeness for the first time after months of mourning. She was ready to make her mother proud by becoming the best ballerina that Paris had ever seen.

_**Chapter 1**_

Erik arose to faint the sound of hammering and clanking as he had for the past several months. Although it woke him, he found the noise appealing. After almost a year and a half of nothing but silence and the squeaking of rats, he was glad to hear the commotion of people in his Opera house once again. This was the first day of rehearsals to prepare for the reopening in five weeks.

It will all begin today, he thought to himself. Almost everything in the building had been restored to its prior state or better, everything that is, except for him.

There had been months and months of renovations since the infamous fire. Anything that could not be repaired had been replaced. The statues were magnificent and gold once again, the main entrance was breathtaking with new marble floors and an even grander stair case than before; the stage had been completely rebuilt, and Erik had approved of almost all of the improvements. Everything would be as it once was in the Opera's former glory. Almost everything, he thought.

The Opera would be missing one important aspect. No longer would it be haunted by the dark, mysterious Phantom, who used to frighten ballet rats, demand salary from the managers, and cause strange accidents to occur when he was displeased. The Opera Ghost was dead. At least that's what the Paris papers had announced a week after _Don Juan Triumphant_ had ended so tragically. The Phantom had been killed in the fire, though his body was never found. After about a week of searching the crowds of angry men and police had given up on finding him.

What fools, he had thought. As if they could capture me in a maze of my own traps. Although they had not found him, several police had found some of his ensnaring creations and had broken some bones, which in his mind were the only redeeming aspects of the entire ordeal.

Eric decided then that he did not like being hunted in his own home. He never again wanted to see hoards of ignorant people with torches examining his belongings or gawking at his compositions. Besides, he was much better at being the hunter; he was not accustomed to being the prey. So he would not make his presence known in the new Opera Populaire. The theatre would no longer live in fear of his all seeing eyes. He would still enjoy the music and the performances as much as he could, but he would not longer try to influence the managers or the performers. It would be easy for him to roam about the building without anyone noticing him; he had been doing that for years. To the rest of the world he was dead, which was not very different from how he felt inside.

A dead ghost, he thought, that's what I am.

Eric wanted to survey the inside of the theatre before all the commotion started later in the morning. He was lurking about high above the stage in the rafters when his attention was drawn to the stage far below him. He was surprised to see a young girl all alone, dancing. He moved from his position to get a better view.

Who would be here this early? She must be some new twit warming up early for rehearsals. She's probably trying to make a good impression on the new pig headed managers, he scoffed.

As he got closer he realized that this dancer was not warming up. It appeared as if she was performing for someone, but there wasn't a soul around that he could see. Although she danced in silence, her movements were fluid and beautiful. She looked like a fairy, the way she simply seemed to float across the stage. It was as if her feet were not even touching the new wooden floors. He could almost hear the music that she seemed to hear in his own mind as he watched her, memorized.

Almost without thinking he moved down through the rafters effortlessly to get a closer look. Who was this new young talent? But as he stealthily crept closer, and saw the dancer clearly he realized that it was not a new talent, but someone who had also made the Opera Populaire a home. A face from the past, someone he had hardly even noticed for many years.

Little Meg, he thought. Had she always been such an accomplished dancer, so passionate in every movement? Had she always been this exquisite? Certainly not, he thought to himself. You couldn't have overlooked such skill in your Opera. You would have recognized her aptitude, despite other preoccupations, he thought.

He suddenly found his mind drifting back many years earlier when Meg was a little girl of only six or so trying her best to become a ballerina. She was a pretty little girl and she worked very hard to make her mother happy, which wasn't an easy task. Antoinette Giry had extremely high standards for her dancers and Meg received no special treatment as her child. If anything Antoinette was harder on Meg. He tried to remember more about her; she must be almost twenty by now. Where had the time gone?

"To her," he whispered quietly, answering his own question.

Every year after that he had been utterly consumed with the woman whose face and voice still haunted him every night in his dreams, Christine Daae. She had come to the Opera at only seven when her father had passed away. After hearing her sing to herself in the Opera chapel, Erik had been totally dedicated to making her believe he was her Angel of Music who had been sent by her father. Through this he could mold her sweet untrained voice into that of an accomplished opera diva. His every waking thought was about making her answer only to him, and obsessing about her the progression of her career.

As the years passed Christine grew into a young woman, with the face of an angel, and his thoughts for her changed as well. No longer was he only interested in her voice and the effect it could have on his ability to compose music that was pure genius. Her career was second to the burning love and adoration that he had developed for her. Her face, every feature was seared into his memory. He was possessed to the point of madness with not only her flawless voice, but her hair, her beauty, her skin, and what she did every single moment of every day. He was always somewhere near, always watching.

He knew he had seen Marguerite Giry over those years. She had been Christine's close friend and confidant. Christine had talked to her about him, her angle of music, many times while he listened hidden by darkness. But he had never really paid her any attention. In fact he remembered seeing her as just one more person he had to compete with for Christine's attention. Why had he been so ignorant? Was he that blind to everything else around him? Although, he already new the answer to that question.

If I had only done things a little differently she would still be here with me, she would still be mine, he thought.

Erik had gone over in his mind innumerable times where the mistakes in his plan had been made. There is no doubt there were many. To begin with making Christine believe that he was some sort or angel or spirit sent by her father was not really conducive to earning her trust as a man that loved her. But his biggest mistake of all was Raoul. Just the thought of his name made Erik overcome with rage. He should have killed the arrogant brat the first night he came to her dressing room. Yes, he could have killed her precious Vicomte de Chagny and made it look like an unfortunate accident. At the very least he should have dragged her down to his lair before they had chance to fall in love.

But Christine was not who he thought she was, and she didn't care for him as he had led himself to believe. After years of teaching her, protecting her and loving only her, she had mercilessly betrayed and humiliated him. She had unmasked him in front of hundreds of onlookers so her lover could capture and kill him … _him,_ her Angel of Music. Then she had abandoned him after giving him only one glimmering moment of ecstasy in her kiss, a moment that he would cling to for eternity. He had watched her ride away with her darling Vicomte. He was nothing but a hideous monster to her, despite years of trying to become something more. The memory sickened him even now.

In his attempt to kidnap her and escape; he had destroyed his only other love, his Opera house. For many months after the destruction, Eric had contemplated suicide. He thought of it night and day, how he could end all his suffering so easily with just one stroke of a knife. He found the thoughts strangely comforting. Physical pain did not frighten him. It was no comparison to the heart wrenching agony that he was living with.

But he hadn't taken his own life, and he could never understand why. Maybe he was merely a coward, or perhaps he still had some tiny pathetic hope that his purpose in this world was not purely to suffer in secluded misery for the duration of his life. After realizing he was not going to slit his own wrists and be found lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood, he had turned his thoughts to getting word of Christine.

Perhaps the Vicomte had died in some terrible accident in which he had endured extraordinary pain for many hours before he died. That would be lovely, he had thought.

But once more fate was his intolerable enemy that once again laughed in his distorted, hideous face. Christine and Raoul had married shortly after she had escaped from him. They moved to Switzerland where her father was born, to move on and raise a family. Erik new he would never see her again. She had tried to get as far away from him as possible, and she would not return. The thought of the two of them smiling and blissful with their ten perfect children made him ill. He would never reach the point of being happy for her while he continued his miserable isolated existence, pining for her day and night.

The sound of clapping below him startled him out of his thoughtful state.

"Bravo, Mademoiselle, Bravo!"

Apparently Eric had not been the only one to notice Meg's silent performance.

"That was beautiful! The crowds will simply adore you! You're dancing is truly a sight to behold! Even without music! They'll be lining up for tickets just to get a glimpse at you! We'll sell out every night!" said Monsieur Francois one of the new managers.

How sincere, Erik thought. He knew when Francois saw Meg he really saw his fortune growing rapidly. Although, after watching Meg glide across the stage, Erik thought that he may actually agree with him.

"Monsieur Francois, I… I had no idea you were… I mean I thought I was alone." Meg's delicate features were lost in a wave of crimson that had washed over her face.

"Nonsense my dear, you will be our star! Our Prima Ballerina, Marguerite Giry! I promise you young lady, if I have anything to say about it, you will be the talk of Paris. Just wait till I speak to Monsieur Jacques!" he said as he walked off the stage back to his office.

Meg could not hide the smile that was covering her flushed face. Prima Ballerina, she thought. Her mother would be so thrilled. Well, at least thrilled for her. Her mother had not really been the type of woman who showed her feelings, at least not since her father had left them. But, Meg knew her mother would see her; she could feel her presence with her always, and she would not let her down. She couldn't.

But what if Monsieur Francois was wrong about her? What if the other girls who had made the dance corps were far better? She simply could not let that happen, she had to be the best. She vowed to dance with every ounce of body and soul at the auditions later that day.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

To Meg's great happiness everyone had agreed with Monsieur Francois overwhelmingly. She had been given the role of lead dancer in the Opera Populaire's reopening gala. It would be a production of _Samson et Dalila_, the tragic story of Samson and Delilah.

Meg was ecstatic, but she kept her feelings inside because she knew that many other girls had wanted the part, and they were very disappointed. But they hadn't wanted it like she had. They hadn't stretched and practiced everyday for hours in the cold. They hadn't been forced to dance on the roof top of a small building with cheap rooms for rent just to have enough room to move. After working for most of the day in a small dress boutique, Meg and her mother would eat something small and go straight to the roof to continue her training.

Antoinette Giry was determined that her daughter's dance career would not end because of the tragic accident. Meg could hear her mother's stern words as clearly as if she were standing there next to her.

"Again Meg, keep your posture. If you want to be the best you must be more than good, you must be perfect."

On the roof Meg didn't have any music, so she became accustomed to listening to her mother's counts and creating melodies in her head.

Oh Maman, we did it, she thought.

She remembered their last conversation together in the tiny room they had shared for so many months.

"Meg, my darling little girl, I am so proud of you already," she said as she touched Meg's long blond strands of hair.

"I know you will accomplish so much, I will be with you always in your heart."

Her mother had been ill for about three weeks. Doctors had come and gone, but nothing seemed to help, and her mother was fading from Meg's grasp all too quickly.

"I want you to be there to see me, Maman, please," she begged.

"Meg, darling I _will _see you. I will have a better view than anyone," she said with a small, but warm smile. "You must listen to me now; I must tell you something that no one else in the world knows."

"What is it, Maman?" she had no idea what she would learn there on her mother's death bed.

Her mother told her all about the truth behind the Phantom of the Opera, the story that had frightened her since she was a child. Her mother described the gypsy fair and helping the tormented, deformed boy escape to the dark caverns of the Opera house, after he had killed his gypsy captor. She told him of his brilliance and the world of music and labyrinths that he had created beneath the Opera. The story both captivated and broke Meg's heart. It all made sense, the ghost, the Angel of Music, and Christine. She wept when her mother finished the story.

"Why did Christine have to embarrass and humiliate him further?" Meg sobbed for the man she did not know. "Why didn't she just run away with Raoul? I don't understand; she was always so kind. And now he's dead. It's so terrible. He was born into betrayal and hurt and he died in the same pain."

"Dead? Erik is not dead my love. The Phantom is dead, but the man is still alive."

Meg wiped her eyes with astonishment, "He's still down there? All alone?"

"I don't know, but I doubt he would leave the safety of his home," her mother answered.

"I still can't understand how Christine could break his heart, he loved her so much!"

"His love for her was not blind. He loved her beauty and her voice. Unfortunately, her feelings for him were not blind either. Love between hearts and souls, not faces, is the real lasting love to be cherished, Meg. Matters of love can often be hurtful and confusing at times, my dear," her mother offered wisely. She paused for a moment and then spoke again.

"Try never to speak or act without thinking or in moments of anger when love is involved, it can slip away very quickly."

They talked late into the night about the past, her childhood and dancing. She fell asleep next to her mother in her small, warm bed and that was the last time she saw her alive.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Meg tossed and turned, but could not sleep. She didn't know if it was from excitement or fear of getting the lead role in the upcoming opera. Perhaps, she was just nervous to be in a new room.

The managers had given her Carlotta's old dressing room because newer rooms had been built for the opera singers on the other end of the theatre. This room was much larger than her previous one, and the furniture was much more elegant. But despite being pleased with the room, it seemed a hindrance to allowing her to fall asleep. But, whatever it was she was going insane staring up at her ceiling.

She quietly slipped out of her bed and tied her dark blue cloak on over her petite shoulders. She crept up the winding stairs and through dark hallways to the door that led to the roof of the theatre. When she pushed the door open a burst of cold air struck her face. She walked out into the dark night. She looked over the edge of the building at the streets below.

The view of the city from this height was incredible. Being up high above the sleeping city reminded her of the freezing nights on the roof practicing past midnight with her mother. For some reason she felt closer to her here, like she was all around her. It was a wonderful, extremely painful feeling of contentment.

Erik quickly disappeared behind a stone statue on the roof when he heard the door creek open from inside the theatre. Blast, he thought, can't I ever get a moment of peace!

Who could possibly be up here this late? And why, he wondered.

Eric's question was answered very quickly when his gaze landed unexpectedly on Meg Giry for the second time that day. She was wrapped in a dark blue cloak and her long waves of golden hair were disheveled as if she had just woken up. She looked down at the streets below for a moment, but then her eyes were focused up at the night sky. She walked along the roof gazing up at stars, holding her own tiny frame to keep warm in the chilling night air. Eric could see a single tear glisten as it crept down the side of her cheek.

He suddenly felt the almost unbearable urge to speak to her, or touch her hand; he wanted to connect to her in some way. Eric tried to squelch the pain he felt from not having any human contact in the past two years. When the theatre was empty, there was no temptation to reach out once more into the world of the living. But now at that moment, there was Meg Giry, very much alive and standing only a few feet away.

The Phantom is no more, he told himself. There is no need to bother with this silly girl. There is nothing left of you that any person would find the slightest bit appealing.

But perhaps, he argued to himself, the Opera Ghost could talk to just one person. If only one person knew he still existed, they wouldn't come again, hunting him down like rabid dogs.

As long as she didn't run her pretty little mouth, he thought. Yes, this could work very well. Meg could be his link to the theatre and all the people in it. It would be very easy to frighten her into silence about his survival. He could speak to her which would in the very least verify in his own mind that he did in fact still exist. She would also be a welcomed diversion when he needed a rest from constant composing in his chambers.

"Mar-guar –rite,"

Meg whirled around when she heard her name quietly drawn out by a soft melodic voice. She looked all around but saw no one.

"Hello, is someone there?" she whispered, frantically her eyes darted all over the roof top.

Calm down and get a hold of yourself, Meg. I must be delirious from not sleeping, she thought. I should go back to bed, or I will be exhausted at rehearsals tomorrow.

But the thought of going back to her room and starring at the ceiling for another few hours did not appeal to her in the least. The night sky was so inviting and she felt as though her mother could see her more clearly when she was high atop the Opera House.

"Mar – gaur- rite," the soft, masculine voice called again.

"Who's there?" she heard herself say out loud. This time she was positive she had heard her name.

"Why do cry, Marguerite?" the voice asked her.

"I'm not crying… I was just, I was just thinking….thinking of my mother," she answered.

What are you doing, she demanded of herself? Have you gone mad? Why did you answer a voice from nowhere?

Because you're absolutely terrified, she thought.

"Who are you? Where are you? Please reveal yourself at once, Monsieur," Meg said as she looked from shadow to shadow trying to find the source of the voice.

"Who do think I am Marguerite? Perhaps, I am someone or _something_ from the past," inquired the voice.

Meg paused for what seemed like an eternity.

"Monsieur… Fantome," she could barley push the hushed words past her lips.

"Why yes, Marguerite," the voice answered.

Meg's mind raced. The phantom had returned. But he is only a man, she reminded herself. She remembered her mother's story about the little boy she had helped so many years ago, and how she had wept for the poor deformed child.

She also quickly remembered the Opera Ghost killing two men, kidnapping her friend, and nearly destroying the entire Opera Populaire. Man or ghost, he was dangerous, and he could probably do away with her with very little effort. She decided then it was best not to confront him.

"Congratulations on your new position in the ballet corps," he complimented her.

"Tha…Thank you, Monsieur."

"Why are you here Marguerite Giry , atop a roof, so late on such a cold night?" the voice inquired in sly manner.

"I'm not really sure myself, Monsieur. Perhaps, I am nervousness about my role in the new performance," she offered.

"You will do well. I watched you dance today. I see you have improved during your time away from here. I see everything, Meg."

She nodded silently, but she didn't know to whom. He was watching her, she thought.

Meg broke that awkward silence by saying, "My mother trained me everyday since the Opera fire. We trained on top of the building we stayed in every night for hours, but that was before she…" she paused.

"She what?" said the voice.

"Before she died, five months ago of pneumonia, Monsieur," tears started to well up in her soft brown eyes.

"I know of your mother's passing. Everyone dies, Meg, be glad you had your mother's love while she lived. Some are not as fortunate as you," he replied harshly.

Meg has no idea how to respond to this. Who could be so heartless? She remained silent, fighting back the tears that were trying so viciously to escape from her eyes. For a fleeting moment she recalled her mother describing the Phantom's childhood, his mother's only gift to him, a mask.

"Return to your room, Marguerite Giry. You need rest in order to properly rehearse tomorrow," commanded the voice.

"Yes, Monsieur," she said, relieved that he was letting her go unharmed. She turned and walked quickly towards the door to the theatre, when she was stopped dead in her tracks.

"You will return at midnight tomorrow," the voice demanded powerfully.

"But Monsieur, I…" Meg tried desperately to think of reason that would keep her from coming back, but her thoughts were cut short by his angry reply.

"You will return, or you will regret ever coming back to this Opera at all! Do you understand?"

"Ye… yes, Monsieur," she whispered quietly.

"Goodnight, Meg Giry," the voice said with an eerie and insincere kindness. But Meg had already darted for the door. She ran back down the flights of stairs and through the corridors to her room. She hurriedly got back into her bed just as the Phantom had commanded, but she would not fall asleep that night.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

Eric watched rehearsals the next day from the rafters high above the stage where even stage hands rarely ventured. He carefully examined all the chosen performers: singers, dancers, male and female. He scrutinized every note that was sung and made critical notes in his mind about each one. But, his gaze always seemed to return to Meg Giry.

Eric watched when she danced in an almost trance like state. She had been wonderful the other morning dancing only in silence, but now with the orchestra music, she was truly magnificent. Eric was awe-struck by her every movement. Her technique was flawless; she looked like some sort of ethereal beauty dancing across an imaginary lake on an artist's canvas. He wished he could move closer so he could see her every facial expression, but he would not risk being seen.

Meg's dancing was not all Eric paid attention to. He also observed her interactions with the other performers. Through out the rehearsal she tried to help the other younger dancers as kindly as possible. She spent most of her time during breaks and a brief lunch talking and laughing with three other dancers. Two were girls, one with light brown hair and one with black. The other was the boy playing the male lead.

He noticed two particular young girls that were significantly less talented, who seemed to be less than moved by Meg's perfect skills. While Meg danced they would watch, but they also pointed and snickered behind her back.

"Jealous, are we ladies?" he said aloud. He would continue to keep an eye on them, and perhaps help them see the error of their ways.

As he retreated back to the dark caverns of the Opera basement following the rehearsal, his mind once again returned to Christine. He felt the usual pain in his gut when he pictured her angelic face and heard her voice in his head. He did notice, however, that when he was watching the rehearsals that day, his thoughts had not been of Christine for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

Meg found herself once again lying in her bed starring up at the cracks in her ceiling. She decided it was pointless to attempt to sleep. She was very apprehensive about her meeting that night with the Phantom.

He's not a phantom or a ghost, she kept telling herself. He is just a man. Despite trying to calm her own nerves, she still had no idea what he wanted with her. But she would do her best not to anger him for she new the results of his anger could be disastrous.

It was a quarter to twelve, and Eric was approaching the top of the stone stair case to enter the Opera house through the mirror entrance. This was by far the fastest entrance into the Opera house, but it also carried the highest risk of being seen.

They had replaced the mirror and closed off the opening at the beginning of the renovations. It had only taken him a week to restore the glass, making it a two way mirror again and then to reopen the passage. He extinguished his candle and peered suspiciously through the mirror.

Unexpectedly, he found himself starring face to face with Meg Giry. The site of her startled him, but only for a moment. They must have given her the old diva's dressing room, since they had built much newer more luxurious rooms for the singers across the theatre, he reasoned.

Meg looked very nervous as she gazed at herself in the mirror. She kept glancing over at the clock on the wall, over and over again. There were two rather extravagant and tacky flower arrangements on the vanity next to the mirror. Eric watched her trace the petal of one of the red roses with her delicate fingers.

"Always red," said quietly to herself, "No one ever sends white, or even yellow."

Meg had always loved white and yellow roses. But they were not the typical flower sent by admirers to the Opera performers. She thought a perfect white rose with no discoloration was a rare find. White roses only lasted for a very short time which made their beauty even more elusive. She also adored yellow roses because they were so cheerful; they could brighten any room and make her feel as though she were in a garden on a warm spring day.

"For that matter, no one ever sends chocolates either," she giggled to herself. "Only the singers get chocolate. I guess no one wants to see plump ballerinas bounding across the stage."

The clock was now at five till twelve and Meg's demeanor changed. She suddenly had the look of a frightened mouse caught in a trap. She quickly wrapped he cloak around her and headed for the door.

When the door closed behind her, Erik crept out from behind the silver plated full length mirror. He knew he could get to the roof before Meg, but he would have to be careful to avoid her by going up through the rafters and stage props.

Erik got to the roof just in time to hide himself before Meg timidly opened the door only a few seconds behind him. Eric was immediately taken aback by her beauty, yet again. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun and a few delicate curls had fallen around her heart-shaped face. Her walk was so graceful and regal; all she needed was a jeweled crown to truly be a princess.

"Welcome, Marguerite."

"Good evening Monsieur," she said shyly, glancing at every shadow, trying to catch a glimpse of the voice's whereabouts.

"How did you think rehearsals went today," he asked her.

"They went well, I think."

"And what is your relationship like with the rest of the cast, Marguerite?"

"Liana and Marion are my two closest friends in the ballet," she offered.

"And the other girls?" the satin voice probed.

Meg looked down at her feet.

"There are two other girls, Silana and Felicia, who don't like me at all. They haven't since I secured the leading role. I hear them make fun of me while I dance, but I try not to let it bother me," she admitted.

"Which you shouldn't, they are both without talent, and thus they must resort to female wickedness to compensate for their short-comings."

Meg couldn't help but smile a little. She wished could say that to them with the same authority. She thought for a moment and then added, "Darcel, the male lead is also my friend; he is always very nice to me."

"I'm _sure_ he is, mademoiselle," the voice replied snidely. "You do realize, Marguerite, that if you are truly serious about becoming an exceptional ballerina, you mustn't waste your time flitting about Paris with eager young suitors," he said in a condescending manner.

Although, Erik knew very well that Meg was already more than an exceptional dancer. He was surprised by her response.

"Yes, Monsieur, dancing is my passion. This Opera house and its stage are my home. I can't imagine giving it up to go be someone's wife, held up like a prisoner in some big house somewhere. Only so I can obey my husband while he goes out to seduce young women."

Meg couldn't believe she had just said that. She wished she could snatch the words right out of the air and stuff them back in her mouth, but it was too late.

"I see you have a very romantic view of matrimony," Eric responded sarcastically. "You seem quite jaded for such a young woman. Most girls your age are out every night trying to catch a handsome, rich husband."

"Perhaps, Monsieur, but I have seen how many of the men who come to call on me after performances where rings on their fingers. They do not come to my dressing room to discuss my dance technique."

The thought of adulterous men coming to take advantage of Meg, made him want to strangle someone, but he retained his anger as best he could.

"You are quite insightful, Marguerite, and it may save you a world of pain in the future. Love may seem beautiful for a moment, but it is really the angel of death knocking at your door. It is merely biding its time before it drags your pathetic love sick soul into a dark lonely dungeon of solitude."

It seemed as though the voice was no longer speaking to her, but just thinking out loud. He was thinking of Christine she thought.

"Are you talking about Christine? Do you still love her, Monsieur?" she asked solemnly.

There was no answer, just a long pause, and then finally the Phantom responded.

"You may go back to bed now, Marguerite," he said sternly, not addressing the question at all.

"Yes, Monsieur," she said as she was again tried to make a quick escape. She would really need to more careful about what escaped her lips in the future.

"You will return tomorrow at midnight," the voice added.

She knew it was useless to protest, and she had probably already angered him enough by bringing up Christine.

"Yes, Monsieur," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5 **_

Several weeks of rehearsals had gone by very quickly. Almost every night Erik had commanded Meg to meet him on the roof of the Opera House at midnight. Every night she had come to him, and every night he had noticed something new about her. He became aware of her warm smile, her infectious laugh, and how her lips pursed tightly together when he made her angry and she tried to hide it.

Some nights they talked for a long time, about different operas, books, rehearsals and numerous other topics. Some nights when he was hostile, he would send her back to room after only a few minutes, and she could not hide her disappointment.

Erik could feel his grasp on Meg tightening. He felt his influence over her becoming stronger with each passing day. The feeling of dominance was sinfully seductive to him. She had started to ask him before she went to and from the Opera house, and if he suggested otherwise, she would not go.

Meg sent suitors away nightly because of fatigue or headaches. He shouldn't care if she had suitors, but he did. He had no desire to share her, and why should he? She was his now, wasn't she?

He still had painful memories and thoughts of Christine, but much less frequently than the relentless suffering that used to consume him. In a peculiar way, he felt as though he was betraying her, or at least betraying his commitment to wallow in the agony of his unrequited love for her for the rest of his life.

Meg's purpose had been merely for Eric's amusement at first. But now he was infatuated by the feeling of control he had over her. She grew more beautiful in his eyes each time he saw her. He longed to touch her, to run his fingers through her golden main of hair. He knew she would never come to him of her own free will; no woman would. He didn't know how he was going to keep her within his grasp, but he knew he _must_ find a way.

Early one morning, Eric found himself hiding in the protective shadows of the highest rafters in the theatre yet again. He was watching the sets getting painted when he noticed the two girls that didn't like Meg, Silana and Felicia, lurking about the stage and cackling to one another in squeaky high-pitched voices.

"What are you two demons up to?" he said to himself. He would keep a careful eye on them.

Moments later the stage began to fill with dancers, singers, orchestra members and the usual chaos that was the beginning of an opera rehearsal. Meg was talking to Darcel, which made Erik clench his fists tightly around the ropes near him in high corners of the theatre. He looked away and began to watch the orchestra set up when he heard a terrified scream. Immediately he looked down and saw that it was Meg who was screaming. She darted awkwardly backwards away from something on the stage, and then tripped and fell in her haste.

Eric maneuvered through the riggings and beams in order to get closer so he could see what had frightened Meg so terribly.

"Meg! What happened!" cried Darcel running to her side.

"My dear, what's the matter?" shouted the shorter, rounder manager Monsieur Francois.

Everyone crowded around Meg to see what all the commotion was about.

"Ra… Rats, Rats!" she wailed. "In my shoes, there were dead rats, and their heads were….," and then she started to cry.

Darcel walked over to Meg's point shoes and shook out the mutilated bloody remains of two immensely large decapitated sewer rats. The crowd of onlookers let out a horrified gasp.

"I guess you'll need new shoes, then," he said.

"How disgusting! Who would have done such a thing! How vile and hateful!" were the comments he heard coming from the crowd.

Erik new exactly who had done such a thing, and his mind was reeling with all the ways he would make them pay for their dirty little trick.

"Meg, Meg!" he heard Darcel shout.

Meg had crumpled onto her side on the stage floor. She looked limp, and her eyes were now closed. Again Darcel ran to her side and lifted up her head. Erik had to resist the powerful urge to rush onto the stage and simply sweep her away with him.

"There's a big lump on the back of her head," Darcel said. "She must have hit it when she tripped."

Madam Badeau, the pointy-faced ballet mistress, knelt down and gently checked the back of Meg's head.

"She will be fine, I think. But she will not rehearse today. Take her back to her room Darcel. Liana, make sure she gets in bed safely, and put some ice on the back her head," she ordered.

"Yes Madam," they both answered obediently in unison.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

Erik did not trust Madam Badeau's diagnosis of Meg's injury.

"What does she know of medicine?" he had asked himself.

Eric rushed back down to his chambers, where he had been spending very little time recently, and quickly got some pain remedies from a box near his book shelf. In no time, he was back up at the theatre level of the opera house waiting for Liana and Darcel to get out of Meg's room so he could check her injury properly.

"Do you think it is okay to leave her here alone?" asked Liana.

"You go ahead back to the dorms, and I'll stay with her for awhile and then meet you shortly," said Darcel.

Erik watched intensely as Darcel affectionately stroked Meg's hair while she slept. How dare he touch her! What made him think he had the right to lay a hand on her? The only reason Erik didn't burst though the mirror and mercilessly kill the little rodent of a boy was the fear of frightening Meg any further.

"I am afraid your dancing career is going to be cut very short, Monsieur Ballet Rat," Eric whispered, grinding his jaw.

Darcel leaned over and tenderly kissed Meg on the forehead, then got up and left the room.

Erik snapped the candle in he was holding right in half. But he would have to deal with Darcel later. He buried his fury inside him, as he had done so many times before, and composed himself. He quietly entered the room. As he gazed at Meg's soft features while she slept, his rage seemed to melt away. She was, in every way, perfect.

Erik nervously reached out and gently touched Meg's face. Her skin felt like silk to his gloved hand. He began to breathe erratically just being this close to her. He had not touched another woman since the night that Christine had left him.

He inhaled Meg's intoxicating scent. It was merely the remnants of her lavender soap, but it was almost more than he could endure. Her fair skin was looked like porcelain in the soft light that penetrated the small window in her room. He wished he could capture this moment and keep it with him always.

Very slowly and carefully, Erik lifted Meg's head and examined the swollen bump that he could feel underneath her thick waves of blond of hair. After feeling the wound, he knew then that she would have no permanent injury.

"You will have quite a headache when you wake up, Marguerite," he whispered.

He placed a few drops of the pain remedy he had brought on her velvety, pink lips. He could have watched her for eternity, but he feared that her friend and that pest of a boy would return at any moment. He brushed his hand across her cheek one last time, and forced himself to return to the mirror.

"Monsieur," he heard as he walked away.

Eric was frozen in his retreat. He slowly turned around to face Meg. He couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed.

"Monsieur," she said again.

This time Erik walked back over to her bed side. Meg's hazel brown eyes opened slightly as she looked up at him. Erik waited for the panic and fear to come across her face. He waited for her to cry out for help as so many others had before, but she did not.

"You're leaving me, Monsieur," she inquired pitifully.

Erik found himself astonished by the calmness that Meg exhibited despite waking up to a masked villain in her bedroom. She must have really hit her head very hard, he thought.

"You must sleep now, Marguerite, you need your rest," he softly, but firmly told her.

"Yes, Monsieur….but please, don't leave me."

The words cut through him like a thousand jagged blades. He was immediately transported back in his mind to the night he had tried so desperately to keep Christine from leaving him. But, she abandoned him.

He knelt down at Meg's side, and held her fragile hand in his.

"I will never leave you, Marguerite, never."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

Erik stared down at the aged, discolored keys of his massive pipe organ. He had been sitting there for what seemed like hours, attempting to continue a composition he had been working on for weeks. He could not concentrate on the notes, and nothing seemed to sound even remotely close to what he was capable of creating. The night before played over and over in his mind. Eric dueled against his own psyche throughout the morning.

_What were you thinking…have you learned nothing from all your misery? How could you have been so foolish? _

But I could not just have abandoned her. She was in pain and confused, he contradicted himself. She won't remember any of it anyway. If she does, she'll think it was all a just a dream. She wasn't frightened of me; she let me hold her hand.

_What about the next time, when she doesn't have a head injury? What do you think will happen then? She isn't going to come down to this pit of despair longing to spend her life in darkness with a monster._

_Besides, you love Christine, Meg cannot replace her._

Christine, my love, he thought.

Erik could picture her angelic face so clearly, and he could hear her beautiful voice as if she were right there next to him. He instantly felt a twinge of guilt for allowing himself to think of anyone but her.

But Christine betrayed me, she allowed me to give her all that I had and then threw it back in my face. She left me to rot in this shadowy hell. She only cared about me when she thought that I was an angel her father had sent.

_But you will never stop loving her. Meg is not your escape. There is no escape. Trying to find love and compassion again will only destroy what little is left of you. Stop these pathetic attempts to find happiness._

Is it wrong of me to want some contact with another person, to want a connection to the rest of the world!

_No, but it is wrong for you think that she is any different from all the others, whose cruelty has imprisoned you in darkness. Do not create false hope, and do not repeat mistakes of the past._

Erik finally succumbed to the realization that Meg could never care for him or see him as anything but a monster, just as Christine had. He buried any hopes that had aroused in his mind about her being more than just a way to communicate with another human being.

He decided that he would still speak to Meg on the roof occasionally, and she would still comply with his requests of her. After all, he was still the Phantom of the Opera. But, that would be the extent of what their relationship would entail.

Meg was glad to finally be back at rehearsals and out of her dressing room. It had taken two full days for the swelling on the back of head to go down, not to mention for the headaches to subside. It felt good just to stretch her tight limbs, dancing would feel wonderful, she thought.

As rehearsals progressed, Meg wondered about Erik, or the Phantom. She remembered him being in her room and holding her hand till she fell asleep. She remember his deep voice, but not what he has said. She couldn't remember how he looked, but he had touched her face with such tenderness…hadn't he? She still didn't know if it was real or a dream.

It was hard for her to believe that he could be so violent, but she knew very well that he could be. She hadn't visited the roof in two days, nor had she heard anything from the Phantom.

Maybe he has grown tired of me, she thought. Meg knew logically that she should be relieved to no longer have to obey this dangerous man. But she could not help the feeling of disappointment that swept over her at the thought of never hearing from him again.

Meg was beginning to realize that the meetings on the roof that had terrified her in the beginning were now what she looked forward to all day. She had missed hearing that voice desperately for the past two days. For the first time since her mother had died, she felt cared for. She wanted to believe that he knew what was best for her.

She wanted nothing more than to please the Phantom, just as she had wanted to please her mother.

Erik, she reminded herself, he's a man, not a ghost. He is only a _man_.

Either way, Meg thought, she cherished their long talks on the roof. She adored his dry, snide comments about the other performers that always made her laugh. She was mesmerized by the tone of his deep, masculine voice. She liked that he asked her questions and seemed to care what the answers were. She appreciated that he was always concerned about how people treated her.

What was going on in her head? Had she really allowed herself to develop feelings for a masked man who lived in cellars and haunted the Opera like a ghost?

There was no use in denying it any longer. Meg knew it was madness and she knew it was ridiculous, but that didn't make the feelings any less real. She didn't care that he was a killer with only half a face. He had pushed his way inside her mind, and she had allowed him inside her heart.

Meg went up to the roof at midnight on her second day back at rehearsals. For the first time in weeks it was not because she had been told to, but because she wanted to. She waited in the cold, still night for at least an hour, but never heard the familiar voice.

He _has _grown tired of me, she thought.

She felt a sudden pain in her chest. The silence on the roof was suddenly unbearable. The thoughts that she had previously driven from her mind now washed over her.

He loves Christine, she reminded herself. He is obsessed with her. You are just his link to the theatre; he is only interested in the part you play in the success of the Opera. He could never care for anyone but her; she was his angel. Your feelings for him will never be returned.

Meg was shivering, so slowly began the long descent through the theatre back to her dressing room. As she walked and thought about the man who had made her care for him, her feelings of sadness were replaced with unfounded anger and irritation.

She decided that if the Phantom was through with her, than she was through with following all his demands. She would see whomever she pleased and go wherever she wanted from now on.

She was not going to allow this sorrow of rejection ruin her return to the Opera Populaire. She was finally where she wanted to be. She had made prima ballerina and she was going to enjoy it, with or without the Phantom.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

Meg traced the outline of her white and silver chiffon gown while she stood alone in her dressing room. She held up the feathered mask that she would where with it. It was a stunning dress, and she would look like an elegant swan for dancing the night away at the Masquerade.

The Opera Populaire had seen many balls and masquerades in its day, but this one was going to be more extraordinary than anything prior. The new managers, Francois and Jacques, were using this Masquerade as a way to bring attention to the re-opening gala. Everyone in Paris who was even remotely socially significant was going to be there.

The stage hands had been decorating the atrium of the Opera for almost two days. There would be wonderful flowers, food, and endless amounts of wine and champagne. All the girls had been talking about was who would be there and what they were wearing.

Meg couldn't help her excitement; it had been so long since she had clothed herself in a beautiful gown and danced with gentleman at a ball.

She had not heard from the Phantom since she had recovered from her injury. Although she missed their late night talks, she was a little bit glad he had not contacted her. She knew he would not approve of a night of drinking and dancing. And Meg planned on dancing with every man who asked her.

She looked at her dress one more time. Although, it was very lovely, something just was not right. She didn't know if something was wrong with the dress or with her.

I don't feel like a graceful, white swan, she thought.

Almost all the young girls at the Masquerade would be in white, pink, or cream gowns, trying to look pure and virginal for any prospective husbands that may be lurking about. But Meg, had no intention of finding a husband at this Masquerade, and she wanted to astound everyone.

She left her room and headed for the costume wing down the long corridor. When she walked into one of the immensely large rooms, her eyes started searching the through hundreds of colorful costumes that lined every wall and were strewn all over the floor. Then she spotted who she was looking for.

Adora, the elder costume designer who seemed absolutely ancient to Meg, came walking out from behind a cloth mannequin wearing a half completed royal blue dress with gold brocade. Adora had known Meg's mother for many years, and so she was always exceptionally kind to Meg.

"Oh Adora, that dress is so gorgeous," exclaimed Meg.

"Thank you my dear, let us just hope that are lovely diva, Princess Parnella agrees with you," Adora replied with a laugh.

"Oh she will, I'm sure she will," Meg said still staring at the dress in awe of Adora's talent.

Adora smiled and then asked, "To what do I owe the honor of this visit so late in the evening, Mademoiselle? I'm certain you didn't come here to talk about Parnella's costume."

Meg suddenly felt a pang of guilt for coming to ask Adora a favor. She rarely came to see her when she did not need something, like a fitting, or mending of a costume she had damaged in rehearsal.

She paused, but then shyly asked, "I know you are terribly busy Adora, but I was wondering if you could help with something?"

Adora smiled "For you, my dear, I can always make time."

About an hour later Meg returned to her dressing room. She closed and locked the door behind her to get ready for bed. She was very pleased that Adora had agreed to help her, and she knew tomorrow's Masquerade was going to be a wonderful evening where for once, she would not go unnoticed.

Meg began to get changed for bed when she saw a beige piece of paper on her bed. She walked over timidly, unfolded the note and reluctantly began to read it.

_Dear Marguerite,_

_You will meet me at midnight. You know where to find me._

_-O.G._

Meg's mind started reeling. She had only just begun to get over the disappointment that she had felt when she realized that the Phantom…Erik, had grown bored with her…that she was never going to replace his beloved angel, Christine.

She had forced herself to accept the fact it was senseless to continue developing feelings for a man who would always love another. She concluded that he could never care for her, and any efforts to win his affection would be futile.

"So what does he want with me?" she said quietly.

Then it hit her. He had been watching her. She had been going out to dinners very frequently, and she had also seen many different gentlemen. Of course they were all pompous idiots, but Meg knew this was against the Phantom's wishes.

"The Masquerade," she said to herself, "he's not going to allow me to go."

It all made sense at that moment. The Phantom didn't care for her in the least, and she had been a fool to think that he might. He just wanted to control her behavior to keep her at her best for the re-opening of his precious Opera.

Meg paced the length of her room about thirty times before she finally decided that she was not going to the roof that night.

"I'm going to the Masquerade," she said aloud with great conviction. "I will not become a recluse because some man who hides in the shadows commands it."

Erik waited impatiently in the bitter cold for Meg to come to the roof. He was hiding in his usual place behind a large stone statue next to the outer wall of the theatre. He was growing angrier with every passing minute. Midnight had come and gone, and Meg was still not there.

At half past, he resolved that she was indeed, not coming. His first instinct was to go straight to her room and demand and explanation even if he frightened her half to death. He could scarcely believe that she would have the impudence to disobey his command.

Didn't she know what he was capable of?

Then Erik forced himself to get a hold of his anger.

She is terrified of me, he reasoned. She would not dare disregard my command. She must not have seen the note. That would explain her absence. She must have just overlooked it and gotten in bed, or perhaps she was not in her room at all.

But she couldn't be out this late, he thought.

He decided to find out for himself. Only moments later Erik was peering into Meg's dark dressing room through the large silver mirror. The only reason he could see anything was a small window that allowed some illumination from the moon to enter the room.

He could see the tiny shape of Meg asleep under the covers with only a few stray blond strands of hair lying on her pillow. At least she is here, he thought. His gaze continued throughout the room.

There sitting on the vanity was his note, unfolded. She _had _read it. She had read the note, and she had purposely defied him.

Erik was unsure what to do. He could not allow this insolent action to be ignored. He would not be disobeyed in his own opera by anyone.

Erik's gaze froze on Meg's white ball gown which seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. He had planned on _suggesting_ to her, that she not attend the Masquerade in order to be well-rested for the next day's opening night. Despite being unwilling to admit it, Erik still despised the idea of lustful men trying to take liberties with her all evening.

"Perhaps my dear, Marguerite, you will see someone at the Masquerade, that you least expect," Erik whispered in a devious tone.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

Erik stood from a distance and watched carriage after carriage pull up in front of the Opera Populaire. He surveyed the scores of people entering, all in their finest attire and all donning ornate masks to hide their faces from their friends and acquaintances. For them, it created an air of mystery for one evening alone.

It is very different when you aren't wearing it for the purpose of entertainment, Erik thought, loathing every person he saw in front of him. These oblivious socialites could never begin to comprehend the suffering that wearing a mask had brought him.

Erik could not help but recognize the irony of the evening. The mask which had always separated him from his fellow man, tonight would allow him to be one of them. Tonight he would mingle among those whose cruelty towards his mangled flesh kept him prisoner beneath the earth void of any human companionship.

Erik felt his stomach churn. He realized that if he stood in the shadows much longer, the festivities would be over without him ever even crossing the threshold of the building. He took one deep breath and headed for his destination. As he walked towards the lights, music and commotion of the Masquerade, it occurred to him that he had never gone in through the grand front entrance of the Opera Populaire.

His mind drifted back to the last time he had been to a Masquerade. He had delivered his opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_, in a frightening storm of fury. He had not known that it would start into motion a sequence of events that would change his life forever. Every eye had been on him from the time he made his presence known to the time he made his grand exit in a fiery plume of smoke through the floor.

Let's hope I am able to be much more inconspicuous this evening, Erik thought.

Erik maneuvered his way through the throngs of people. Most of the men wore black suits with black and white masks that covered everything but their mouths. This was what he also had decided to wear in order to camouflage himself. Some men, who looked ridiculous to Erik, were adorned in vests and waist coats of gold and crimson. They wore masks decorated like exotic animals with as much embellishment as possible.

Unfortunately, after scanning the room several times, Erik began to notice that most of the young women Meg's age were wearing similar billowing gowns of white and other light colors. Their masks were also very alike; most were adorned with feathers, pearls, or tiny flowers.

How would he ever find Meg in this preposterous maze of women in white?

Erik was not even sure what he was going to do once he did find Meg. He just knew he would not allow her make a mockery of him by disregarding his authority in such a blatant manner.

As he walked, Erik listened to the tune of the cheerful music that filled the vast, over-decorated rotunda of the Opera house. It was a far cry from the bitter and dismal melodies that he created in the caverns hundreds of feet below.

"Good evening, Monsieur," a young lady smiled and said as she passed him.

"How do you," an older gentleman greeted him, wearing a lavish mask that resembled the head of a peacock.

"Very well, thank you," Erik replied appearing like the perfect gentlemen. He quickly kept walking as he had no desire to make small talk with any of these pretentious, society half-wits.

Then suddenly, Erik could hardly believe his eyes. In the sea of white before him, he finally spotted Meg. She was standing halfway up the grand marble stair case towards the back of the room, but she did not have on the dress that had been hanging in her dressing room.

Meg was wearing a striking gown of black satin that clung to her tiny, yet voluptuous frame as if it had been painted on her by the most skillful of artists. The skirt of the dress hugged her petite hips and then swelled gracefully around her. The layered bustle of black satin cascaded elegantly down the stairs behind her.

The top of the gown was off the shoulder and it revealed more than a hint of Meg's ample cleavage. Around her neck she wore a dainty pearl choker with matching earrings. Her golden locks were only partially pulled up with tiny pearl pins. The rest of her hair caressed her back and shoulders in perfect long blond ringlets.

On her face she wore a simple black satin mask with a hint of sparkle that covered only the area around her eyes.

Erik had to catch his breath. Tonight, Meg was beyond beautiful. There were no words that could describe how stunning she truly was. It amazed how him she could look so classically exquisite, yet so bewitchingly seductive at the same time.

He felt his vexation for her melting away. Feelings of animosity were replaced once again by great longing to simply get a closer look at this divine creature before him.

Not surprisingly, Erik was not the only man in the room to be enticed by Meg's provocative dress and ravishing beauty. She was surrounded by a score of gentlemen young and old who seemed to be simply awe-struck by her.

Erik decided not to waste any more time. He knew in order to get her away from these enamored buffoons he would have to be bold but refined, charming, but firm in his approach. Eric advanced towards Meg with an air of confidence and charisma that turned many a ladies' head. As he got closer, he could hear Meg's infectious laughter that he had inspired in her so many times on the roof when he spoke to her about the short-comings of her fellow performers.

Erik made his way through the crowd of suitors. When he was only a few feet away, he caught Meg's gaze in his own. He walked boldly straight towards her and took her hand, and then he gently lifted it to his lips.

"Marguerite, would you do me the honor of a dance?" Erik inquired his voice as sultry and convincing as ever.

He could feel the tension from the irritated suitors that surrounded them; they waited with baited breath for her reply. However, Meg was not theirs' to pursue, and he was about to make that undeniably clear to everyone in the room.

Meg did not speak, but simply answered by allowing Erik to lead her to the dance floor. He reveled in seeing the annoyance and disappointment on the faces of the gentlemen who had spent the evening vying for a moment of her attention.

Meg eyes did not leave Erik's for a moment; she had already surrendered to the piercing green stare that seemed to engulf her. She knew who he was the moment she heard his elusive voice. She had been so stunned that no words could escape her lips. She simply allowed him to guide her to the dance floor as if in a trance. To Meg everyone else in the room disappeared.

Unlike her, Erik was very aware that all the eyes in the Masquerade were following him and Meg to the dance floor. He saw the faces of jealous men who wanted to be in his position, and women who were green with envy over Meg's illustrious beauty.

Erik slipped his hand around Meg's waist and lower back; he held her tiny fragile hand in his. As they started to dance he pulled Meg tightly to him so that her soft delicate body was flush against his muscular frame. They moved fluidly as if they were a single entity. Erik desperately tried to keep his mind and body under control as Meg's erratic breathing thrust her ample bosom against his chest, driving him nearly to the point of insanity.

Finally, before it consumed him, Erik spoke breaking the erotic silence between them, "Marguerite, I hope that you realize that this is not the gown of a young maiden in search of a proper husband."

Meg paused for a moment, "I was feeling dark, and a husband is not what I'm looking for," she replied seductively not retreating from his deep stare, and only half knowing what she was saying.

"Be careful what you say to me Marguerite, although I may be the Phantom of the Opera, as you can see I am still a man of flesh and blood," he said coolly, pulling her even closer to him.

"Why did you ignore my note, Mademoiselle? I have little patience for disregard of my requests. It is not in your best interest to anger me," he hissed, as he recalled how furious she had made him the night before.

They continued to twirl around the dance floor, igniting a wave of curiosity among the guests who wondered about the identities of the handsome couple in black.

Meg was completely lost in the arms of the man that she vowed she would not allow herself to love. She looked at the Phantom's black and white mask. It was amazing how well he blended in with all the other people. Yet, to her, he still stood out. His tall stature, his intoxicating voice, and his emerald green eyes made him incomparable to the other so-called gentlemen that filled the room.

What Meg had not noticed as they danced, was that while she was swallowed completely by intensity of his stare, Erik was stealthily spinning them out of the crowd towards one of the side exists of the rotunda. Before she knew it, he had grabbed her and swept her out a door into cold night air. They were standing in a dark alley on the side of the Opera house.

Erik grabbed Meg by the arms, "Did you hear what I said," he demanded. He saw tears welling up in Meg's doe-like brown eyes, he longed to kiss her pale pink lips, but instead he let his temper get the best of him. "Did you think you could defy me and get away with it?" he thundered.

"No," Meg said as a tears fell down her cheeks. "It's just that… I think… in a way, I wanted to make you angry."

"You wanted to do what!" Erik roared. His unyielding grip found its way to Meg's delicate throat. "Have you gone mad? Do you realize how easily I could snap your pretty little neck? Do you? What would possess you to anger me?"

Meg couldn't speak; there was a look of terror in her eyes. Erik released his grasp on her neck and went back to gripping her tiny arms in his powerful hands.

"You will answer me!" he demanded.

"I…I thought you were tired of me, I thought you… had grown sick of me. It hurt me, so I wanted to… to hurt you," Meg sobbed.

"What do you know of hurt, you insolent girl! What pain have you ever known?" he bellowed. "I have felt agony that you could never dream of in your worst nightmare! Do you know what it is like to feel as though your heart is being ripped from your chest because your one true love has given her heart to another? Do you understand what it is like to know that you will never feel happiness with another human being because of the hideousness of your own face?"

To Erik's astonishment Meg started to yell through her tears right back in his face.

"I may not comprehend all your pain, but you are not the only person who has ever shed a tear!" she sobbed.

Meg tore herself from Erik's grip with all her might.

"I know exactly what it is like to know my love will never be returned! The man I love has no feelings for me at all! He loves another, and I will never have his love! I will never love anyone else, so I am doomed to loneliness just like you!"

Erik stood before Meg in a silent state of shock. He could nothing but watch as she ran from his sight, her black dress and golden curls waving behind her. He was unsure as to what astounded him more about the past few moments. He didn't know if it was the fact that Meg had dared to yell in his face, or if it was the idea that there was someone in this world foolish enough to reject her love.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

Eric had made himself almost invisible in darkness of the scaffolding hundreds of feet above the opera stage. He watched the premier performance of _Samson et Dalila_ that was taking place beneath him for the first time at the Opera Populaire. The house was full, and Erik was pleased that two new managers had at least managed to sell-out opening night. The performance was about half way through the second act; however, and Erik was not scrutinizing every facet of each song as was his usual habit.

He found himself fixated on only one aspect of the production, its prima ballerina. Erik could not seem to allow his eyes to move from her as she glided across the stage. He tried to take in every movement of her dancing as though he may never see her again. Despite having seen Meg perform these same dances numerous times over the past weeks of rehearsal, Erik found that he was no less enthralled by her every action.

His only displeasure in watching Meg, were memories of the night before when she had confessed to him in a fit of anger that she was in fact, in love. It was at that moment that Erik could no longer deny his feelings for her. Instead of being enraged that she was screaming at him, he felt a pain in his stomach at the thought of her in the arms of another man. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with, and he couldn't bare the same agony for a second time. He was sure this time he would not live through it.

Erik's only consolation was the fact that Meg had admitted that the man she loved did not return her affection. This alone gave Erik a small glimmer of hope that perhaps, somehow she could still be part of his life. He realized that if things were going to end differently for him this time, he would have to work swiftly. Erik was convinced that it was only a matter of time before the man that had Meg's heart realized the error of his ways and reciprocated her feelings.

He would have to discover the identity of this man as soon as possible. Once he did, Erik decided that he would make certain not loose Meg to some impish young suitor the way he had lost Christine. Perhaps he would have to employ the torture chamber that had been sitting useless and idle in his lair for the past several years.

This time I will not allow cowardly compassion to cloud my judgment, he thought. This time I will do whatever I must to acquire what I want…and need.

Erik realized that his biggest challenge would be earning Meg's trust back. The thought of the way he had treated her at the Masquerade kept filling his mind. He had threatened her life, and that was not something to be reconciled quickly.

You _must_ learn to control your temper, he told himself.

Erik tried to convince himself that Meg was not terrified of him as other people generally were. She had allowed him to touch her without retreating in fear or disgust. She had danced with him in way that no other woman ever would have endured. She looked into his eyes without trying to catch a glimpse of the horror beneath his mask. She also had the courage to scream at him, which no one else had ever done… and lived. For the first time in his life at the Masquerade Meg had made him feel like he was simply a man.

Erik began to believe that she could finally end his suffering and bring some happiness to his dismal existence.

Even if she does not love me, or even care for me, perhaps she can learn to tolerate me. She had said herself that she was doomed to a life of loneliness just like me, he resolved as the final curtain fell.

Meg stood in her dressing room after the opening night's performance. She was exhausted and it felt wonderful to put on her robe and just sit on her bed. It had felt like a dream to be back on stage in front of the huge audience. The stage lights had warmed her soul and the applause had driven her to push herself even closer to the perfection that her mother had demanded.

Everyone seemed thrilled with her performance. The managers and her fellow cast mates had congratulated her profusely. At least six different gentlemen had come to call on her after the show, and her room was once again filled with bouquets of red and pink flowers. Meg had refused to meet all of the men who wished to see her; her excuse was a terrible headache.

Despite their handsome faces and large fortunes, Meg could not bring herself to find interest in any of these young suitors. There were several times during the performance that she found herself squinting into the rafters high above the audience for a glimpse at a dark figure or the flash of a white mask. She had seen neither.

Why do you care you silly girl? He threatened to kill you, she told herself. You must be out of your mind.

But Meg remembered how she and Erik had danced before they had both lost their tempers. She remembered how it felt to be in his arms, and to look deep into his eyes. She had felt like he could see straight into her soul. He had ignited a fire in her that she had yet to put out.

While Meg sat on her bed feeling very alone, she had no idea that the man who occupied her thoughts was only feet away behind her massive, antique silver mirror. Erik watched Meg as she looked around her room in silence. He could tell that she was deep in thought, and he longed to know the secrets of her mind.

"Mademoiselle…Mademoiselle," a loud voice said while rapping on the door to Meg's dressing room. The noise startled Meg as well as Erik.

"Mademoiselle, it is Monsieur Francois and Monsieur Jacques! We must see you immediately, it is most urgent," they shouted from outside the door.

"I'm not properly dressed," Meg replied through the door, "couldn't this wait until the morning?"

"Well get properly dressed as quickly as possible. This absolutely can not wait!"

Meg started to feel apprehensive about what her managers could possibly be so urgent about. She quickly walked across the room and put on a long blue skirt and cream blouse. She pinned her hair up in a simple bun as fast as she could. She would have to hope that whatever was going on did not require a corset.

Erik stood in the stairwell behind the mirror also wondering what the idiot managers wanted with Meg. To his dismay she had walked adjacent to the mirror and out of his line of sight to change out of her robe.

Meg opened her door only a crack, but as she did Francois and Jacques came barging into her room.

"There is a very special some one here to see you," said Francois in a quiet voice. "A very special gentleman that is," he added with a childlike grin.

"I do not wish to see anyone. I have a terrible headache, and…"

Before Meg could finish her sentence, she found herself face to face with an unknown gentleman who was dressed impeccably in a grey suit and wearing a satin black top hat. He had a well-manicured mustache and a very handsome face.

"Miss Marguerite Giry, we would like to present the Marquis de Condorcet," said Jacques in a very grand manner.

Meg had heard of the Marquis several times in passing when she had been out in town. She knew he was a very well-respected man and that he owned an unheard of amount of land outside of Paris. His immense wealth was often the subject on the tongues of gossiping women.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Marquis, your honorable reputation precedes you," Meg said as she curtseyed bashfully.

"It is _your_ reputation that seems to be the talk of Paris, Miss Giry. However, the rumors of your stunning beauty are all clearly the truth," the Marquis said in an overly polished and sophisticated tone.

How incredibly genuine, Erik thought to himself, as he became more incensed. This man looks much too old to call on Meg. Although in the back of his mind, he knew the Marquis was probably only a few years his senior.

"Forgive me for intruding on you this evening Mademoiselle, but I simply could not relinquish the opportunity to meet you. I was absolutely enchanted by your performance. You are an extremely gifted young lady."

"Thank you Monsieur, but you are really much too generous in your flattery," Meg responded slightly blushing.

"I assure you, my dear, I do not give compliments freely. You are truly a unique talent," he replied confidently.

"I will not impose on you any further tonight, and again forgive me for disturbing you. I do, however, look forward to coming to see many more of your performances. I have a feeling I will become quite a regular to the Opera Populaire. I hope that you will again grant me the honor of your presence, Meg Giry," he said graciously bowing.

Perhaps, I will grant you the honor of slow and painful death in my torture chamber, Marquis, Erik thought.

"Of course, Monsieur," Meg answered. She could not help but be a little intimidated by the visit from the Marquis.

As he walked away with Monsieur Jacques, Francois grabbed her face in his hands, kissed her on the cheek, and said, "I knew you would be our star, I just knew it, but the Marquis…. Oh you wonderful little ballerina!"

As Erik watched the scene with the Marquis and Meg unfold before him, he began to feel a combination of jealously and rage building inside him. He realized that his situation now would have an added obstacle.

"I hope for your sake, Marquis De Condorcet, that you do over step your bounds," Erik whispered to himself.

He continued to watch Meg after her obnoxious guests had taken their leave. He could not help but notice how tiny and delicate she was. His chest ached with an acute pain when he thought of how he had gripped his hand around her slender neck. He watched her until she climbed into bed, and blew out her last candle. Erik found the union of woman and child that Meg possessed to be both endearing and captivating.

I must make her see that I am more than just a grotesque and violent monster, he thought. I must make her understand that I _need_ her.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! Every time I read a review I have to sit down and write. This chapter is a little shorter. But the Phantom had to get these girls eventually.**_

_**Chapter 11**_

Erik had slipped out of the dancers' dressing room just in time. He could hear the shrill irritating voices of Silana and Felicia as they came closer down the hallway. He ducked into a dark corridor and waited for them to pass.

"It's six-thirty, Silana, we should hurry and get changed," said the shorter of the two less than attractive ballerinas.

"Ah yes, another performance, and another night of worship for the lovely Princess Meg. It's only our second show, and I'm already tired of everyone gushing over her," Silana replied spitefully.

"I really don't see what is so wonderful about her. Her dancing is mediocre at best. Why is _she_ always the center of attention?" Felecia whined. "Did you know that the Marquis de Condorcet asked to meet her last night?"

"The Marquis… what a waste! She probably wouldn't even see him. She snubs all the gentlemen who come to see her. She thinks she is too good for them."

Erik smiled to himself as he hid in the darkness at the thought of Meg denying the infatuated admirers who came to call on her.

"Maybe she needs a few more bloody rats in her shoes," Felicia said cackling and confirming what Erik already knew.

"That's a good idea, but I am afraid we may get caught. I think Darcel, her faithful servant suspected us last time. But don't worry we will teach that snotty ballet rat a lesson that will humble her very soon," Silana said smiling slyly.

I think it is you, Mademoiselle, who will be humbled this evening, Erik thought to himself as he disappeared down the hallway.

Meg was warming-up on stage about an hour and a half before the second performance of _Samson et Dalila_ was to take place. She had on her winter white satin bodice and her white ruffled pannier, but she had not yet had her hair and make-up done. She went through a few basic steps, and then started to move on to some turns and spins.

In the midst of a few simple pirouettes, Meg felt someone's hands around her waste. She was lifted into the air and then gently placed on the ground. She was guided into a spin only to turn around and see Darcel smiling and looking back at her.

"You startled me Darcel," Meg said playfully slapping him on the shoulder.

"What is wrong with you Meg? You are so jumpy lately. Honestly, who else around here is going to grab you, pick you up and spin you in the air?" he replied sarcastically.

No one, Meg thought, feeling very pathetic and sorry for herself for a moment.

As more dancers and vocalists began to file onto the stage, Meg and Darcel were abruptly interrupted from the rest of their conversation. They were shocked when they looked up and saw Felecia and Silana walk onto the stage.

"Ladies! What on earth is the meaning of this?" Madam Badeau demanded in an alarming tone.

Everyone stared at the two girls simply dumbfounded. They were both completely dressed in their costumes, and their hair was fixed into perfect smooth buns, but their faces were what astounded everyone. Their skin from the neck up was an undeniable shade of green.

"Is this some kind of joke? I will not have pranksters in my ballet corps, ladies," Madam Badeau continued.

"What are you talking about Madam, we haven't done anything," said Silana questioningly.

"Haven't done anything? Just look at your faces! Go wash them this instant!"

Silana and Felicia who were both extremely confused at this point ran over to the nearest make-up mirror. Everyone watched in silence for their reactions.

When they both got to the mirror the piercing shrieks they let out were music to Erik's ears as he watched and enjoyed his handy work from the shadowed rigging above the stage.

"We……We're green!" screeched Felicia.

They both started to frantically rub their faces. Silana spit on a small rag and drug it across her face as hard as she could.

"It's not coming off!" she wailed.

Both girls kept rubbing and then started to weep.

"Madam Badeau, what are we to do?" Silana asked pitifully.

"Well, you cannot perform like that. You look ridiculous. Your understudies will have to fill in for you until we can get you… um…well…less green," she replied. Then she asked, "What on earth did you put on your faces?"

The girls looked at each other.

"We just put on our make-up, nothing different. I promise" said Felicia.

"You must dispose of it at once," said Madam Badeau. "It is clearly contaminated. And girls, you should really go to your dressing rooms, I'm afraid you may disturb the audience members if they see you."

Both girls ran from the stage in a whirl of tears and tutus.

Darcel was the first to break the silence in an uproar of laughter. Everyone else began to laugh as well. Even Meg smiled and giggled.

"Really, Darcel, we shouldn't laugh at them," Meg said.

"Oh Meg, you are too kind. I mean, could it have been more appropriate? The two of them…green! You know, _green with envy_. Someone has a wonderful sense of humor!"

The moment Darcel said the words Meg knew exactly who had tampered with Felicia and Silana's make-up. She remembered the Phantom voice telling her that they were jealous of her. She remembered how she had laughed when he had talked about their "lack of talent."

Meg looked up into the rafters just in time to see a black cloak swish and disappear into the shadows.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

The Opera Populaire's second performance of _Samson et Dalila_ had been just as successful as its opening night gala. Although two ballerinas were replaced with understudies, the sold out crowd had given the performers a standing ovation. The vocalists were astounding in their delivery of every note, but Erik had scarcely noticed. As far as he was concerned, the opera could have been silent. For him, there was only one performer on the stage, a lone fairy-like ballerina.

When the show was over and the last bows had been taken, Meg started to return to the sanctuary of her dressing room. She felt very drained and despite adoring every moment that she spent on stage, she was glad that there was no performance the following night.

On the way back to her room Meg was stopped by Monsieur Francois, who once again was giddy and smiling.

"Mademoiselle, I have the most wonderful news!" he said in an excited tone. "The Marquis de Condorcet has requested that you join him this evening for dinner! He is ordering his carriage as we speak!"

Meg looked at him blankly in a state of shock.

"The Marquis…but…. I was…."

Francois did not give Meg the chance to protest. He hurriedly escorted her back to her dressing room and talked extremely fast the entire way.

"You must change quickly, and wear something… cheerful," he said looking at the signs of irritation on Meg's face.

"Keep the conversation light and address the Opera whenever possible. Maybe you could even ask him to help support it financially."

"Monsieur!" gasped Meg. The idea of going to dinner with the Marquis to get money for the opera seemed awful to her.

"No, no you're right. You just be your usual lovely and graceful self. The opportunity will present itself eventually," he acquiesced. "This could be wonderful for all of us Meg, especially you," Francois said squeezing her hand.

"You must hurry, my dear, we cannot keep the Marquis waiting," he spouted as he practically pushed her into her dressing room.

When Meg closed the door behind her and turned around, she could hardly believe her eyes. The sight before her was so overwhelming that her heart felt as though it might leap right out of her chest.

Meg's dressing room was blanketed in what looked like a fresh fallen snow. But indeed, it was not snow. It was perfectly splendid white roses covering her room for floor to ceiling. There were hundreds of them everywhere. Every piece of furniture was covered in gorgeous bouquets with white satin ribbons. Even her floor and bed were enshrouded in white rose petals. It was as though she had walked into a fantasy garden of white in her own room.

Meg leaned over and inhaled the sweet fragrant aroma of one of the bouquets. She realized that every single bloom was flawless. There were no brown spots or blemishes anywhere that she could find. She could hardly believe that they were real. She spun around on top of petals that were layered all over the floor.

Erik watched concealed behind the mirror as Meg danced with joy around the white garden that he had created for her. Her smile filled his empty soul. For a brief moment the inner agony that he had felt since he had savagely grabbed her throat subsided. He had made her happy, and that gave him peace.

Erik's moment of contentment was interrupted all too soon by pounding on the door. Meg looked like she had been ripped from a wonderful dream.

"Mademoiselle, I am sure you look divine. You must hurry now, the Marquis is waiting!" called Francois from outside the door.

"I'm coming," Meg called back as she ran frantically around the jungle of white roses that consumed her dressing room. "Just a moment, Monsieur!"

Erik watched as Meg disappeared for a few minutes and then returned to the mirror wearing a pink dress lined in cream lace. She looked as beautiful as ever. Erik gazed at her as though she could see him while she fixed her long blond hair and then put on her dainty shoes. Meg took one last brief look at herself in the mirror, and then one long glance at the miracle of white that was her room. She headed for the door, but then she stopped. She turned around and went to her bed. Meg picked up one white rose petal and rubbed it her fingers. Clutching the petal in her hand, she rushed out the door.

Erik stood disbelieving the events that had just taken place. Could Meg be going to meet the Marquis?

Of course she could, he thought, remembering the way he had looked at her the night before.

But how could she? How could she be off in a carriage somewhere with that arrogant old drone? The thought of him touching her instantly made Erik's stomach and chest burn in anguish. Erik forced himself to rid his mind of such thoughts.

Everything he had planned was now destroyed. He had wanted to go to Meg tonight and try to ask for her forgiveness. He was going to try to find out the name of the man she loved. But now none of that could occur. All his work had been in vain.

Perhaps Meg had given up on the man she loved, and thus she was receiving the Marquis.

I'll kill them both, Erik thought.

Although the events of the evening enraged him, it also solidified his fervent desire to make Meg his, _permanently_. If she was going to settle for life with someone, it was going to be him, not the Marquis de Condorcet. The moment that Meg left, Erik's mind started racing. His plan would have to be altered, but it could still be successful. He would not be the one left behind again, and no one was going to stand in his way.

Hours later, Erik stood waiting once again in the damp darkness of the stone stairwell behind the mirror in Meg's dressing room. It was nearing midnight and she had not yet returned. Erik could feel his temper starting to flare inside of him.

Where could she be? Has she no decency? Does she not know what this man will think of her if she is out till all hours of night?

Just then, as if to answer his questions, Meg came quietly into the room. She lit several candles and looked around her room with distressed shock. The room that she had left covered from wall to wall in gorgeous white roses was now as bare as it had been that morning. The old bouquets of red and pink from the night before were back just as they had been. There was not a white rose anywhere in sight. Meg's face changed in a matter of seconds from astonishment to bewilderment.

Hot tears began to pour down her flushed cheeks.

Had she imagined it, she questioned herself. She felt for the one white rose petal in the pocket of her cloak. It was there; she had not been dreaming.

All night she had waited in childlike anticipation to get back to her amazing rose covered room, and now they were all gone. Erik watched Meg take one candle and dash out of her room weeping.

Minutes later, Erik was watching Meg yet again at their familiar rendezvous point from the weeks prior. She sat on the concrete ledge brushing her fingers across her one white rose petal as tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.

"Marguerite," Meg heard a low voice whisper.

Meg jumped up startled and frightened.

"Hello?"

"Show yourself, Monsieur Fantome," she tried to command with authority through her tears. "I know you are a man, so why must you hide in the shadows and try to be some voice or ghost to frighten me?" she yelled.

"I'm not hiding, Marguerite," said the voice. "Turn around."


	13. Chapter 13

_**I'm so glad that I got some new reviews! This chapter is a little longer, so I really hope you like it. Please send me your comments they are the only thing that keeps me going!**_

_**Chapter 13**_

Meg was unsure as to how much time had passed between the present moment and the moment when she had first turned around to find the masked phantom, completely dressed in black standing only a few yards away from her. The mask he wore was also completely black and it covered the entire upper half of his face. Behind him, his long cloak swayed in the chilling wind.

Meg knew it was freezing cold, but oddly, she felt a stirring warmth swelling inside her. She watched the heavy breathing of the man who stood before her; she could see his chest rise and fall as each breath entered the frigid air. It was hard for her to believe that he was, in fact, justa man.

Meg had found herself stunned into silence by his compelling green eyes. She was totally paralyzed by his powerful stare. She stood there lost in the abyss of his gaze hoping that he would speak because she could not.

Erik looked deep into Meg's tear soaked brown eyes. He could see her breathing heavily in the numbing night air and he knew she must be frozen. Her cheeks and lips were crimson and flushed with cold. She did not speak or move a muscle, but her gaze was so magnetic, and it was as if she were pulling him to her.

He took one step towards her. He swallowed hard, and hoped she had not noticed. He took another step, and then another. He saw Meg make one timid move towards him, and that was all the invitation he needed. Within seconds they were right in front of each other. Erik wanted to believe that she had come to him as well, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that she was there now, only inches from him.

Meg never took her dark eyes from his. Erik could not stop himself from touching her. He wrapped one powerful arm around the small of back and pulled her into his chest. He could feel her warm supple body against his rigid frame. She did not resist or try to escape from his embrace.

Don't frighten her… be gentle, he told himself.

Erik tenderly wiped the remaining tears from Meg's cheeks with his gloved fingers. Her face was only inches from his own, and he longed to press her reddened lips to his.

Dear God, let him kiss me, or I may die right at this moment, Meg thought.

Erik continued to stare into Meg's sparkling brown eyes. He knew he was imagining it, but it was as if she wanted him to kiss her. They were so close now that he could not tell his own heavy breathing from hers. Their mouths were almost touching. He leaned in a tiny bit closer and Meg's bottom lip just barely brushed his own. He felt an overwhelming tingling sensation rush down his spine. He could restrain himself no longer.

Erik passionately pressed his lips to Meg's. The feeling of their mouths touching was almost more than he could stand. He embraced her tightly with both arms and waited for her to retreat. But to his surprise, Meg did not push him away. She slowly opened her velvety soft lips and allowed him to enter the warmth of her mouth with his tongue. The heat of her kiss made his knees feel as thought they might buckle beneath him. He felt her body completely surrendered to his encompassing grasp.

Erik was lost in a few moments of sensual bliss while he continued to hold Meg and feel the inside of her sweet mouth with his own. It was not long before he was becoming consumed with fiery lust. He never wanted this flash of euphoria to end, but he knew that he was on the verge of losing control and that would ruin everything.

Although it felt like stabbing himself in the heart, Erik gently pulled his lips from Meg's. She looked at him with stunned disappointment. He smoothed her rustled yellow hair and lightly brushed his lips across her forehead. Then, slowly, he backed away from her. An icy gust of wind hit him hard as if to slap him for being so foolish as to remove himself from the perfection of her kiss.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence Erik finally spoke. "Where were you this evening Marguerite," he asked, already knowing the answer.

Meg looked down. She made circles on the ground with her pointed foot. She had no desire to tell the man she had just shared an amorous kiss with that she had been out with the Marquis less than an hour before. She also knew that this would most likely lead to a violent outburst.

"I was out…just out for awhile," she said pathetically.

"You must never lie to me, Meg. I always know the truth, and lying makes me very angry," Erik said trying to remain calm.

"I was with…" she began.

Erik walked back to Meg and tightly wrapped his arms around her.

"Yes," he prodded, with his face right in hers again.

Meg decided she would just try to explain everything in one quick breath, "I was with the Marquis de Condorcet, and we went to dinner, but I did not want to go because I don't even like him, but I felt like I didn't have a choice and…."

"Shhhhh," Erik stopped her ranting by placing his finger to her lips.

He continued to embrace her, and he spoke very quietly so that his lips were nearly touching hers. He was pleased to hear that Meg was not interested in this Marquis, but he didn't want him to have the chance to win her over either.

"You will not see him again, will you Marguerite?" He asked her while simultaneously commanding it.

"No…no, of course not," Meg replied. He could have asked her to jump from the roof of the opera, and she would have done it. For some reason Meg felt she had no control over her own mind in his presence. She looked up and met his aggressive stare.

"Do you know why your roses were gone when you came back this evening?" Erik asked.

"They _were _from you," Meg said smiling. "They were so beautiful!"

"You must understand, Marguerite, I can give you everything you have ever wanted, but if you disobey me, I can take it away just as easily."

Meg nodded solemnly. She did not doubt him.

Erik released her and decided that now was the time to find out more about the man she had said she was in love with. Erik could not deal with this _problem,_ if he didn't know the man's identity. He had watched Meg almost all day everyday, and he had not seen any man that he thought could have been the one.

"This man you said you love, Marguerite, does he still hold your affections?" Erik asked while pacing around her.

"Well….yes…," Meg began.

Erik began to feel incensed. He could not comprehend why Meg had allowed him to kiss her, if she loved someone else. Perhaps, she thought it didn't matter because whoever it was did not love her in return.

"And does he still love another?" Erik continued not really allowing Meg to finish.

Meg looked at him perplexed, and then she looked at her feet again. "I would be lying to myself if I said he does not. I want to believe that he could care for me, but I don't think he will ever stop loving her."

Erik felt a sharp pain in his chest as he watched Meg's face when she talked about this man who had stolen her heart. He could see how badly it hurt her to say that he did not care for her.

Erik knew he still had to find out who this man was. He was going to do whatever he needed to do to ensure that Meg would become his. He was willing to _dispose_ of a few people if it became necessary.

"Have you seen this man recently?" Erik asked, although he was almost positive she had not.

"Yes," Meg replied.

Erik tried to hind his look of surprise. She had seen him, and recently. How could he have missed it? Had he been in _his_ the Opera? When? A thousand questions flooded his mind.

"Does he come to see you often?" Erik continued becoming angrier with every passing second.

"Not often… but sometimes, but you don't understand…." Meg said.

Erik grabbed Meg by the arm; his jealousy had overcome him.

"What is there to understand? It is all very clear, Marguerite! You allowed me to kiss you, while you were thinking of another!"

Erik pulled Meg close to his face, "You listen to me, I do not care how much you love this pig-headed fool….you will not see him again!" Erik roared.

Meg's outrage took over her mind and her tongue. She would not let anyone, not even him, insult her character in such a way.

"How dare you accuse me of thinking of another? When it is _you_ whose mind is always consumed with someone else! You monsieur, plainly know nothing of my head or my heart!"

This time Meg did not sob as she ran from his sight. Erik watched the theatre door slam shut behind her. He thought of chasing her, but he didn't know what he would say if caught her. She was right. As far as Meg knew, he did still love Christine. He had told her when they first started talking on the roof that he would always love Christine, and nothing could change that. He had never told her otherwise.

He knew in Meg's mind, he had been kissing her while thinking of Christine, which made him just as guilty as her. Of course this could not have been farther from the truth. Somehow in the past few months Meg had managed to heal his wounded heart. His painful memories of Christine were slowly becoming like the remnants of a bad dream.

It was Meg that filled his mind all day and who danced in his dreams throughout the night. Meg did not fear him, and she knew that he was not an angel or a ghost. Erik knew that even if Meg did not love him, she would not betray him as Christine had. He had to have her with him, and he would, very soon.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Thanks so much for my reviews from last chapter! A couple of you new what was coming with some of the things that happen next. Hope you like it! Please keep reviewing.**_

_**Chapter 14**_

Felecia and Silana sat at a back table of the foul smelling Le Havre Inn. It was a filthy little hovel that was filled with mostly old drunks and prostitutes. Both girls found it revolting, but they had been told that this was the place to find the man whose services they were hoping to employ, Silvain Sordeau.

Locating Silvain had not been all that difficult. When the girls walked through the door of the slovenly inn, they immediately heard the bar keep yelling the name of the man they were in search of.

"Silvain, I think you have visitors!" he yelled.

Felecia and Silana tried to ignore the hungry stares of the grimy men who were drinking heavily in the middle of the afternoon. They noticed a large brut of man walking towards them. His hair was slicked back on his partially bald head, and it looked as though he had not bathed in weeks. He was much bigger than any man either of them had ever seen before. He was unshaven, and there was a putrid odor that surrounded him.

"Bonjour Mademoiselles, can I help you with something this afternoon?" the ogre of a man asked them.

"We are looking for Silvain Sordeau," Silana said quietly.

"Well you are in luck, because I am Silvain," he said.

"How did you know we were here to see you?" Felecia timidly asked.

"For the most part, the only people who come in this place dressed like you ladies are people who are looking to hire me," he replied with a creepy wink.

The two girls allowed Silvain to show them to a table in the back of the musty room. They sat and discussed their plans for about half an hour in which time Silvain consumed at least four mugs of ale.

"So we have an agreement?" Silana asked wanting to leave as quickly as possible.

"I think we just might, but we still haven't discussed the subject of payment. My services do not come cheap Mademoiselles, no matter how much I may enjoy my work," Silvain said with a devious smile.

"And you aren't going to kill her or anything, just scare her, right?" Felecia asked.

"That depends on how much you are willing to pay me, my dear," he replied laughing.

Erik spent the better half of the day trying to finish a composition for an opera that he had been working on for weeks. He would play a few bars on his organ, and then change his mind within minutes and have to start from the beginning. Nothing seemed to sit well with him. He was not pleased with anything he had written all day.

Erik knew why he was unable to concentrate on his music. His mind kept drifting back to Meg and the night before on the roof. Meg had given him one of the most incredible moments of his life. She had allowed him to kiss her, and he knew from the way it felt that it was not out of pity or fear.

He pictured every detail over and over in his mind. He could almost feel Meg's warm breath on his face. The memory of her dark eyes locked with his left him yearning to see her once more. Erik had never imagined that any woman would ever sustain him touching her in such a way. For the first time in his life he was granted a rare glimpse at the powerful physical and emotional connection that could exist between a man and woman.

In that brief momentMeg had begun to heal wounds in him that had been bleeding since he was a boy. She had allowed him to feel like a man, andnot a hideous beast unworthy of human contact. Now that Erik had tasted the euphoria of Meg's affection, he knew more than ever that she had to belong only to him. This time he could let nothing stand in his way.

He had wanted desperately to find out the name of the man she loved last night. Erik believed that this man was the only obstacle standing between him and a life with Meg. But he had never even made it to the point of asking her. His jealousy had gotten the best of him, and he said things that he knew had hurt and angered her, _again_.

Erik resolved that as soon as he discovered the identity of Meg's beloved and dealt with him accordingly, he was going to confess his true feelings to her. He knew that she would definitely not just openly tell him the man's name. Meg was no stranger to his fury, and she would realize that this would put her precious beau in harms way.

Erik cam to the conclusionthat the way to get Meg to reveal her love's identity was to find out who the woman was that he loved. Meg would not think that he would harm the innocent woman who held her love's affections, so she may actually tell him. Then through her, Erik could easily determine the man's identity. Once he was out of the way, Erik would be free to have Meg completely to himself, _forever._

Erik left his unfinished composition and started for the theatre. He didn't want to waste any time.

Meg was rushing down the corridor on her way to afternoon rehearsal, when suddenly she felt a forceful gloved hand cover her mouth and pull her backwards into a dark deserted hallway. She tried frantically to resist, but her assailant was much too strong.

"Don't scream, Marguerite," Erik whispered in her ear.

When she heard his voice, Meg stopped struggling against him. He uncovered her mouth and turned her around to face him. He was wearing his white mask that covered only half his face and a very formal black jacket and waist coat.

"What are you doing… are you trying to frighten me to death, Monsieur?" she asked.

"No, I can assure you Marguerite, that I have no intentions of causing your death," he replied resolutely. "I actually came to offer my apologies for my behavior last night. It is all too often that I allow my temper to take control of my words and actions."

Meg was a little astounded at the idea of the Phantom of the Opera apologizing to her for being rude.

"I…I accept your apology," she said not knowing how else to react.

"I should not have brought up the man you are in love with, or that he loves another," Erik said trying to get her to start talking about him.

"Really, it is fine, Monsieur, but I must get to rehearsals. I'm already late."

"Marguerite, would you mind telling me who it is that this man loves? I simply can't imagine what woman could possibly win any man over you," Erik said hoping she would fall for his question and give him an answer.

He noticed Meg slowly starting to back away from him down the dark hallway making her way towards the theatre. He knew he could easily stop her, but he had not come here to upset her further with his domineering tendencies. She looked him directly in the eyes.

"Why do want to know who he loves, do you just want me to have to say it, so I can be reminded of my foolishness once more?" Meg said as her voice heightened.

"No of course not, Marguerite, I was just curious as to who the woman is that could possibly challenge someone of your talent and beauty for a man's heart," Erik replied hoping this would calm her.

"I am surprised Monsieur, that you do not already know the answer to this question. You seem to be aware of everything else that happens in this opera house," Meg replied sarcastically.

Erik was beginning to get angry. She knew that he was desperate to know and she was toying with him. It took all his self control not to just grab her and demand that she tell him.

"Marguerite, you are trying my patience. Now, tell me this instant who she is, or I will be forced to make you tell me," Erik said in a deep intimidating voice.

"Fine, if you must know, I will tell you," Meg said as her eyes welled up with tears, "The woman is Christine Daae!" she cried as she quickly dashed around the corner into the brightly lit hallways on the way to the back to the stage.

Once again Erik found himself completely astounded by something Meg had said before she ran from his presence. He stood in the dark corridor motionless while his mind raced in violent circles.

Christine, he thought. Had she really said Christine?

Erik was fairly certain that there were only two men that Meg knew of who ever loved Christine Daae. One was the Vicomte de Chagney and the other, himself. For a terrible moment Erik entertained the thought that Meg too was in love with the Vicomte. But he remembered her saying that she had seen the man she loved recently so it simply could not be the Vicomte.

The realization of what Meg had just confessed to him slowly began to wash over his mind and body like a sweet summer breeze. Meg thought that he loved Christine, and that he always would. So it was his love that she believed would never be returned. She had been talking about him all the time. It began to make sense to him why she had gotten so distraught when he had accused her of thinking of another when they kissed.

You are a blind fool, he thought.

Eventually, Erik began to walk from the dark hallway, but he had no idea where he was going. Every aspect of his existence suddenly seemed completely altered. Nothing was as it had been only minutes before. Meg loved _him_. He felt as if he was walking in a wonderful dream, but he feared that at any moment he might wake up.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15**_

After Erik had wandered the opera house aimlessly for almost an hour, he was still having trouble allowing himself to believe that he was the man that Meg loved. For his entire life, Erik had been convinced that he was a monster, a hideous evil monster. He believed that he was cursed to spend his days void of human contact in the shadows and cellars of the opera.

Erik had always accepted that fact that if he were to achieve any form of companionship in his lifetime that it would be through tricky or force. No one would ever choose to spend any amount time with a beast of their own volition. But now it seemed that everything that he had thought to be true about his life was false. He had not tricked Meg into caring about him, and he had not tried to force her to stay with him in his dark lair beneath the opera.

He found himself in extremely unfamiliar territory. Erik knew how to frighten and deceive people into getting what he wanted. He knew how to demand that people obey his wishes, but he was unsure as to how he would face the woman who had admitted that she loved him. How could he possibly adequately express to her how she made him feel? How could he make her understand that he did not love Christine after he had sworn to her that he always would?

Now that Erik knew he had a chance to keep Meg in his life, he found himself consumed with an emotion he had not felt since he was a child…_fear._ Suddenly, he was terrified of losing his chance to be with Meg by doing something that would make her stop caring for him. He was afraid that she would change her mind when she realized that being with him meant a life of darkness in the cold stone labyrinth under the opera.

His mind kept creating reasons why Meg should not love him, and why she would not want to stay with him. His thoughts began to control him. Erik decided that the only way to clear his mind was to see the woman who held his soul in the palm if her hand once more. Watching Meg dance always gave him a blissful peaceful feeling, and now watching her and knowing that she loved him would be even more thrilling.

Meg would be at least halfway through afternoon rehearsals, and he could catch the second half from his hideaway far up in the shadowy rafters of the theatre.

When Eric had just begun to approach the balcony level of the theatre, he thought it strange that he heard no orchestra music filling the great room.

Perhaps they are taking a break, he thought.

Erik stealthily hid behind the long velvet curtains that hung near the entrance of one of the boxes. He peered down to the stage below, and saw a few dancers and vocalists standing around whispering things he could not quite make out. Meg was no where in sight. The orchestra's music and instruments were in the pit, but few of the orchestra members were even in the theatre.

Erik noticed Madam Badeau pacing back and forth in the corner of the stage left; her usual stern demeanor had been replaced with a look of disconcertion and worry. From the side entrance of the theatre Meg's friend Darcel came bounding up to her.

"She's not in her room or in costuming," he said panting as he tried to catch his breath.

A moment after Darcel came in, two girls dashed up to the stage straight to Madam Badeau as well. Erik recognized one of the girls, Marion, who was another friend of Meg's.

"We looked through all the dormitories, even in the empty rooms, and we still could not find her Madam," Marion whimpered in a shaky voice, "this just is not like her, I know something must be wrong."

Erik began to feel sick, and his head started spinning. He hoped that it was not Meg that they were searching for, but he knew somehow in the pit of his stomach that it was.

"We must all remain calm," Madam Badeau said, "becoming upset will not help us find Meg."

Erik felt as if he couldn't breathe when he heard Madam Badeau say Meg's name. How could she be missing? He had just been with her a little over an hour ago. He had watched her run from his sight towards the theatre.

"But Madam, Meg hates to miss rehearsals. She would never skip practice entirely without telling anyone," Darcel added.

Just then the back doors of the theatre opened and three older gentlemen entered.

"Please tell me you have found some sign of her gentlemen," Madam Badeau pleaded.

"I'm sorry Madam," said the tallest of the three, "We looked all around the theatre, we asked people in the street, and we even checked the roof, but we couldn't find a trace of her anywhere."

She had never even made it to rehearsals. Erik's head started to pound, and he got an acute pain in his chest. He knew that Darcel was right. Even if Meg had been upset with him, she would never miss a rehearsal without letting someone know. Something was wrong, very wrong.

Erik knew that he had to find her. The thought of anything happening to Meg was more agony than he could endure. For a moment he felt helpless, and he was unsure where to even begin looking. He couldn't imagine who would want to do anything Meg, but only seconds later he knew exactly where to begin his search.

Felecia was taking off her pink ballet slippers in her modestly decorated room, when without warning she felt an abrupt sharp pain on the front of her neck from the cold steel of a blade. She felt a powerful hand grasp the hair on the back of head tightly. She could feel the sensation of her own warm blood trickling down her neck onto her collar bone.

"Where is she," a terrifying deep voice hissed in her ear, but Felecia was too stunned with fear to respond.

"Where is she," the voice said again pushing the blade deeper into her tender flesh.

"Wha… what? Where is who?" she stuttered.

"Tell me where Meg is, you little tramp, or I will slice your throat and leave you here to bleed to death! Where is she?"

"She's… she's at the inn," Felecia managed to get out, "Please… don't hurt me."

"What inn, and how do you know she is there?" demanded the voice.

Felecia did not say anything for a moment, and then she felt the metal pierce her skin even further.

"I am going to enjoy killing you," the angry voice said in her ear.

"Wait, no, please, please,….it is the Le Havre Inn, Silvain, Silvain Sordeau has her."

"Why, what does he want with her?" Erik asked as he tilted the blade into Felecia's throat even harder.

"We paid…..Silana and I…..we paid him….. to take her, and scare her, and….."

"Enough!" the voice thundered. "That's enough! I want you to get your filthy little friend and leave this Opera house and then this city. I swear that if I ever see either of you ever again I will make you beg for me slit your scrawny little necks. Do you understand me?"

Felecia just nodded. She was in to much pain to speak. She felt the relief as the blade was released from her throat, and then she heard the door of her room slam shut. She wanted to lay on the floor and weep, but she was too frightened. She quickly began to scurry about the room packing all of her belongings.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Thank you so much to those of you who have been reviewing! I love hearing all your comments. Sorry this update took a little longer, but this is an eventful chapter. Please let me know what you think!**_

_**Chapter 16**_

Erik tried to steady his shaking hands as he took his Punjab lasso and hid it under his long black cloak. He was so overcome with anger that he could hardly focus on any task. He took a dagger tucked in away in his belt and then placed another smaller one in the top of his tall leather boots.

Whoever has Meg is not going to live through the night, he thought.

Erik swept out into the cold city streets of Paris. It was just after dusk and he would have complete cover of night soon. He headed for the La Havre Inn. He knew where it was although he had never been inside. Simply based on the looks of the people he saw going in and out, he knew it was a haven for drunken scoundrels and whores.

Erik had never employed the services of any of Paris' many women of the night, although he had entertained the idea more than once. A lifetime of celibacy sometimes led to intense carnal frustration. Erik knew that there were many of these women who would do anything for a few franks, even suffer the touch of a monster. But deep down he realized that satisfying his instinctual urges with a whore would only leave him feeling more empty than he already did. He wanted more than a moment of physical gratification. In his heart Erik yearned for intimacy and devotion that his deformed features would never grant him.

The city was blanketed with darkness by the time Erik reached the La Havre Inn. He decided to make his way to the roof of the smaller two story building behind the inn, so that he could see in all the rooms without making his presence known. It would be much easier to sneak up on Meg's kidnapper if the rogue did not know he was coming.

Erik saw light coming from four of the second story rooms of the dilapidated old building. He looked carefully as best he could in each one for any sign of Meg. Two of the rooms were being used for the sexual escapades of some of the most slovenly hookers Erik had ever seen. He watched one full figured, auburn-haired woman who was staring at the ceiling while a round sweaty oaf of a man had his way with her. He wondered for a moment what harsh circumstances could force anyone into such a deplorable life.

In another room Erik saw a drunken old man passed out on the floor beside the bed. He had either rolled out of the bed in his inebriated state, or had never quite made it there in the first place. The fourth room was occupied by an enormous unkempt brut-like man, who Erik could hardly believe was not some sort of abnormal giant.

And they put me in a freak show, he thought.

Unfortunately none of these rooms showed any evidence of Meg. Despite this, Erik continued to carefully watch the greasy ogre like man in the last room. The vile giant kept pouring whisky down his throat and the rest of him in the process. Erik watched as he rose and walked over to the narrow closet on the far side of the room. He looked around suspiciously and then slowly opened the closet door. Erik's view of him was temporarily blocked by the open door, and for a few seconds he couldn't see what the man was doing.

Erik watched closely as the man backed away from the closet and shut the door with his huge foot. When he turned to the side Erik could see that in the arms of this monstrosity was Meg's delicate little body. Her long blond hair hung from her head which dangled lifelessly in his massive arms. Erik felt his heart stop.

Silvain walked across the room and carelessly tossed Meg onto the dirty mattress that was strewn across the cheap iron bed frame. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and came back to where she lay unconscious on her side. He gruffly grabbed her by the arm on flipped her over onto her back. Holding her nose, he tilted the bottle of whiskey over her mouth as she gasped for air.

In her dazed state Meg could feel the burning sensation as more warm liquor poured down the back of her throat as it had for the fourth or fifth time in the past few hours. Meg didn't open her eyes because she knew if she did she would see the face of the hideous man who had brought her to this hell. Several violent blows to the face had left her head pounding and spinning. The liquor continued to make her nauseated, and she could smell her own vomit that covered her hair and clothing. Her only relief had been when he had briefly locked her in a small, dark closet.

"Time to wakey, Love," she heard the man say.

He propped her head up against the iron rails of the bed and lifted her swollen eyelids with is coarse fingers. Meg could just barely make out the blurred image of his enormous head. She wanted to struggle, to scream, but she felt powerless to move her own limbs. It was as though she were a prisoner trapped inside her own stagnant body.

"Uncle Silvan has a lovely surprise for you, Pretty."

Meg's eyes fell shut again, and she felt herself on the verge of a comatose sleep. Then abruptly, she heard and felt the thundering smash of a fierce slap across her face. It felt as though her eye might explode inside her head from the force of the throbbing pain.

"I said wake up, you prissy ballerina. I don't like a girl who can't hold her liquor," Silvain yelled.

Meg used all of her strength to open her eyes just slightly in hopes of avoiding another agonizing blow.

"There we are, Pretty, now Uncle Silvain is going to have a bit a fun with you. I want to make sure you are awake to enjoy it."

Meg watched in blurred powerless horror as the foul beast unbuttoned his shirt revealing the sweaty bear like chest beneath. He grabbed her frail arm and pulled her up from the bed. With his free hand he began to tear at fabric of her tight rehearsal bodice. Meg tried to pull her arm away, but she wasn't sure if she had even mustered a movement.

She decided she must have, because her feeble effort was followed by another striking blow to the side of the already aching cheek. She felt the warmth of blood oozing from her nose and trickling down her lips.

"It's not polite to pull away from a man, Love," Silvain said.

He began to ferociously rip at her clothing again, and although she could feel his bulky hands groping at her tender flesh, Meg had no strength left to resist. She wondered for a moment if her life would end right here in this disgusting place at the hands of this violent beast. For a mere second she could see Erik standing on the roof with his dark mask and cloak swaying behind him in the breeze, and then everything faded to black.

Silvain dropped Meg and whipped around startled when he heard the door behind him slam open into the wall. Before he could even think about how to attack the masked man in black before him he saw something fly through the air at his head. Suddenly, he felt a solid noose tightening around his thick neck. Instinctually, he tried to wrap his fingers around the rope to loosen its tightening grip from around his throat. He fell to his knees pulling desperately at the noose and trying to get just one breath of air.

A heavy leather boot plowed his face into the wooden floor beneath him. The noose kept tightening, and Silvain felt a sharp pain as the boot of the masked man bore into his skull. He was sure he was about to meet his death, and then he felt the noose loosen ever so slightly. His face was pulled back from the floor by his grimy hair.

"You didn't think I would end it that quickly, did you swine?" a merciless voice said in his ear.

Silvain couldn't speak. His wind pipe was still blocked by the noose and he was overcome with fear.

Erik was consumed with blind rage. He wanted to draw out the execution of this despicable demon because he deserved to suffer for what he had done to Meg. His mind was running ramped with ways to cause him excruciating pain.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan that escaped Meg's swollen blood stained lips. Erik felt as though he had been slapped in the face. He looked at Meg lying limply on the bed, bruised and beaten, and he knew he had to get her out of there.

"Consider yourself fortunate," Erik said as he smashed Silvain's face back into the floor. He drew the lasso instantly tighter around his giant neck. He felt him struggle in vain for a few more seconds and then collapse beneath him.

Erik quickly ran to Meg's side. He gently wrapped her in his heavy wool cloak, draping it over her battered exposed skin. He was sickened by the blood and bruises that covered her delicate face. He could feel that she was breathing, but he new that she was completely unconscious. She reeked of cheap whiskey, and her torn clothing was stained with vomit and blood.

Erik lifted her with great ease and within minutes he was carrying Meg's listless body through the shadows in the cold streets of Paris back to his underground sanctuary. Looking down at her, despite her awful state, Erik was overcome with a sense of relief that she was alive and that he had her in his arms. He vowed at that moment that he would _never_ again let her go.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Wow! I was so excited about my reviews that I wrote this next chapter pretty quickly. It is sort of long. I hope you like it! Please keep letting me know what you think, it really helps me so much. _**

_**Chapter 17**_

Erik carried Meg into the cool darkness of his cavern chambers hundreds of feet beneath the Opera Populaire. The soothing glow of the candlelight that illuminated his misty lakeside abode was a welcomed change from the deplorable atmosphere that he and Meg had just left behind at the La Havre Inn. He wanted to lie her down immediately so he could properly examine all her wounds, and determine the extent of her illness from the liquor. Without thinking he walked into the room that he had once prepared so meticulously for Christine and carefully placed Meg on the massive cushioned bed.

Erik looked all around the extravagantly decorated feminine room. Everything from the fine dresses that hung in the closet to the plush colors of bedding had been thoughtfully chosen for Christine. He had hoped that the perfect room would ease her transition into living here with him in the basements of the Opera. But now Christine could not be further from his mind.

Soon after Erik had laid Meg down, he realized that allowing her to wake up in this shrine to Christine would only strengthen her belief that he would always love her. Although it was much more modestly decorated, he would have to put Meg in his own room. He would also have to hope that Meg would sleep long enough for him to eliminate all of the many signs of Christine that were so readily available throughout his home. He could not make her want to stay with him, but he was not going to _give_ reasons to want to leave either.

After Erik had gently settled Meg on his ownbed, he began the daunting task of trying to bathe her and dress her wounds without compromising her modesty completely. He put one of his softer white shirts on over her vomit and blood stained clothing. Then he removed the putrid smelling garments from her body, allowing himself not even a glimpse at her nude form. He slowly wiped away all the dried blood from her battered face. Despite the abuse, her skin still felt like silk under his unsteady hands.

She had not thrown up since he had brought her from the inn, and Erik did his best to get her to swallow as much water as possibly could. He had no idea how much whiskey that pig Silvain had forced down her throat, but he knew she would be feeling ill and incoherent for a least a day or two.

Erik rinsed out Meg's tangled long blond locks of hair using a small basin of warm water. Every now and then she would let outa faint whimper or her eyes would flutter open briefly. But she was mostly oblivious to his touch. He bathed her with a cloth and lavender soap, so she would not awake to any odors that would instantly remind her of the torment she had sustained. As he bandaged the open cuts on the side of her face and neck he was overcome with waves of emotion.

Part of him felt immense gratification just having Meg there with him, being close to her, and being able to touch her. He could barely keep his hands from shaking as he tried to care for her wounds. Yet as he tended to her bruises and abrasions, he also felt intense animosity and hatred for the people responsible for her suffering.

I should have killed those vengeful witches when I had the chance, he thought.

After Meg was finally clean and her wounds were dressed, Erik covered her up and sat next to her while she slept. He was secretly reveling in the opportunity to be so near to her without her feeling uncomfortable by his constant gaze. He was completely captivated by every inch of her. He tried to memorize everything about her, so that he could picture her perfectly always. To him the evidence of her confrontation with Silvain was almostinvisible.

Although he could have stayed by her side indefinitely, Erik knew he had some rearranging to do in his home before Meg happened to wake up. Reluctantly, he left her to her peaceful slumber. Before he left the room he looked back at her, just to make sure that she was really there and that she was safe.

Meg arose a day ad half later to a spinning unfamiliar room and sharp pounding headache. Her stomach was sick, and her chest was burning. She wearily attempted to sit up for a moment to try to get her bearings. She glanced around the sparsely decorated room and tried desperately to remember where she was and how she had gotten there.

A few minutes later all the horrid memories of the inn and Silvain came flooding back to her. She suddenly wished she hadn't tried so vehemently to recall them. She remembered the hot whiskey he had poured down her throat and attempting to resist his advances as he continually hit her over and over. Meg reached up and touched the side of her cheek and then grimaced at the sharp pain caused by her own touch on her swollen flesh.

She then became aware of the fact that she had bandages on all her wounds, and she was wearing a man's clean white shirt. Her hair did not reek of whiskey and vomit as she had remembered. She tried to think about the last thing that she could recall happening. She remembered thinking that she was going to die in that filthy place, and then an image of Erik from the roof had flashed in her mind. She simply could not conjure up anything after that.

But clearly many events had occurred since then because she was indeed alive. Someone had come for her, and rescued her from an awful fate. Someone had taken care of her and bathed and dressed her injuries. Before Meg could begin to ponder the identity of this someone, she looked up to see her masked Phantom standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

He was dressed formally, but he was not wearing his black coat and cloak that Meg was accustomed to seeing him in. He wore his usual white mask that covered only half his face. Meg instantly felt very vulnerable under the deep gaze of his clear, fair eyes.

"Good morning Marguerite," he greeted her with his calm melodic tone. "How are you feeling?"

"My…my head, and my face… and I feel so dizzy," was the only answer she could manage to contrive.

"You have endured an immense trauma, Marguerite, you must try to rest."

"Where are we?" she quietly asked.

"We are in my home beneath the Opera," he replied.

"Did you….how did we….?"she was trying to ask what had happened, but she didn't even know where to begin.

"Meg, do you remember _anything_ about what happened at the inn?"

Immediately after he asked the question he wished that he had not. Erik watched as Meg's big brown eyes welled up with tears that began to pour down her cheeks as if a dam had broken behind her eyelids. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her head down, then softly wept reminding Erik so much of a little girl. Seeing her cry made him feel as though he couldn't breathe.

You imbecile, he thought, why would force her to remember everything so quickly after all she has been through?

He rushed to her side and instinctively tried to hold her in his strong arms. But for the first time in all their encounters Meg flinched at his touch and shied away from him. Her reaction bore a hole straight through his heart. She had never resisted his touch before, and now he felt as though he had somehow violated her further.

Erik quickly retreated away from her, realizing that the touch of a monster would clearly be no comfort for Meg as she dealt with the memories of such a terrifying experience. He began to feel foolish for even thinking she would want him near.

As he started to leave her bedside Meg looked up from the covers straight into his pained green eyes. To his surprise, she thrust her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his chest. She gripped him tightly and began to weep much more heavily than before. He enclosed her tiny frame in his enveloping embrace while she continued to cry.

Erik could feel the warmmoisture of Meg's tears seeping through his shirt. His heart was breaking for her, but at the same time he was overjoyed that she had reached out for him and was allowing him to hold her.

After awhile Meg caught her breath and feebly asked, "The man… where… where is he? Does he know where I am? Why, why would he…..," but her sentence was cut short as she could not stop from sobbingeven harder.

"Listen to me, Meg," Erik said holding her tear soaked face in his hands and looking deep into her eyes, "you will never see his face again, ever. I promise you that he will never harm you again. I have made sure of that."

Meg just nodded and tried to wipe some of her tears away. She didn't feel the need to ask any questions, she knew exactly what Erik meant.

Meg sat for a moment looking affectionately into Erik's sea green eyes through his white mask that was molded perfectly to the shape of his face. He had rescued her; he had found her and he had saved her life.

Meg's amorous thoughts were interrupted when she suddenly found herself affronted by another memory from the day of her kidnapping. This one was not frightening and awful, but grossly humiliating. She remembered how the last time she had seen Erik she had all but told him she loved him right to his face.

Meg began to feel her cheeks becoming warm and flushed from embarrassment. She could hardly bare to face him for one more second.

What must he think of me, she wondered.

Meg pulled the covers up over her head and flopped backwards onto the white down pillows behind her. She was simply overcome with mortification. She had blurted out Christine's name to Erik without even thinking, and she certainly had not planned on having to face him like this.

"Meg, what is it? Why are you hiding?" Erik asked, beyond confused by her oddbehavior.

"Please leave me alone, I simply can't bring myself to face you," was her muffled answer.

Her words hit Erik hard. He once again felt the familiar pain from a person being unable to look at him. But what Meg said next baffled Erik even more.

"I feel so foolish.You must think I am such a pathetic, silly girl."

Erik was now completely lost, and he was getting tired of talking to a sheet.

"Marguerite, come out from the covers please, I assure I have no idea what you're talking about," he said firmly.

Meg responded, still hiding beneath the covers, "Don't you recall Monsieur…Christine Daae?"

Erik's mind instantly filled with a thousand different thoughts. He knew what she must be thinking, and he felt a desperate need to be able to look at her. He gently pulled the covers from Meg's hands and down away from her face.

Meg reluctantly let go and sat up to confrontthe humiliating consequences of her loose tongue. But Erik did notsay anything; he just stared at her with his stunning green eyes. She couldn't stand waiting another moment for him to tell her what she already knew to be true.

"I know you could never care for me because you love Christine, and I know I am alone in my feelings, but…."

Erik stopped her by placing his gloved finger over her soft lips. He tenderly brushed the golden hair away from her red, swollen cheeks.

The thought that had seemed like a dream to himfinally began to seem like reality. She _loved _him. He could hardly believe what was happening. Even more astounding was the idea that she thought he was rejecting her. Erik knew he had to convince her that it was she who he loved more than he could have ever imagined.

"You are not alone," he said looking deeply into her dark questioning eyes, "I love _you_, Meg, not Christine. I love you in a way that I never dreamed possible."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Thank you again for sending me your reviews. I really love reading everything you say about the story. This is a short chapter, but I hope you like it anyway. Please tell me your thoughts.**_

_**Chapter 18**_

Meg sat in Erik's bed completely speechless from what he had just said to her. Could he really have meant that he loved _her?_ She thought for a moment that perhaps she was hallucinating from her head injury. Over the past few months Meg had begun to accept the fact that her feelings for Erik would always be one-sided. She was convinced that he would spend the rest of his life pining for Christine, and she would spend the rest of hers longing for him. But now it seemed that everything she had believed to be true about her relationship with Erik was completely amiss. No man had ever told her that he loved her before, and she found herself quite overwhelmed.

Erik studied the look on Meg's face for some kind of indication of what she was thinking or feeling. He had just told her that he loved her, and she was just gazing at him blankly in complete silence. It seemed like hours that he waited with his heart pounding for her to give him some sort of response, and then finally, she spoke.

"But, you said… I mean you told me that would always love Christine, and that you could never care for anyone else."

"I know what I told you Meg, and at the time I said it I thought it to be true. I was certain that the pain I felt could never subside and that my heart could never mend," he said as he grasped her small hand in his. "But I was wrong Meg. Somehow you have not only managed to heal my shattered heart, but you have also made me love you more than I ever thought I was capable of."

Meg continued to look into Erik's eyes, but he could tell by the expression on her poor bruised face that she was not yet convinced of his feelings for her.

"Meg, I can hardly explain how you have possessed my mind and soul. Rarely does a moment pass when my thoughts are not of you. I will do anything in the world to keep you near me," he said, trying desperately to make her trust him.

Meg felt herself becoming filled with pure elation that she had never felt before. She quickly decided as she listened to Erik that believing he loved her felt much better than doubting him. She also sensed the sincerity that was in his in his voice and in his eyes. Still at a loss for words, she reached out and tenderly placed her hand on the unmasked side of his face.

When Meg touched him, Erik felt the sensation run down his back and through his entire body. He suddenly wanted to pull her to him and kiss her passionately. But looking at her wounded face made him realize that he had to be very gentle with her. He reminded himself of all that she had endured from Silvain. He would simply not allow his own selfish desires to cause her any more discomfort.

Erik leaned in close to Meg and gently kissed her sore swollen lips. Despite her throbbing head, Meg ached for him to hold her tightly and kiss her deeply as he had that night on the roof. But Erik just carefully laid her down onto his bed, and then kissed her forehead softly. She did not want him to tell her that she needed to rest, but she somehow knew he would.

"Meg, the most important thing now is making certain that you recover. I have already disturbed you enough. Please, try to get some sleep," he said affectionately.

Meg nodded her head, and allowed Erik to pull the covers up over her shoulders. She watched as he began to leave the room.

"Erik?"

"Yes," he said turning to face her.

When his eyes met hers Meg suddenly realized that she had no idea why she had just said his name. As she looked at him while he waited for her to speak, she ached to tell him how she felt, but the words felt trapped inside her. He had just expressed such deep emotions to her, and she could not even seem to utter a word to him.

Grow up Meg, and stop acting like a frightened child, she told herself.

"Meg, do you need anything?" Erik asked obviously wondering why she had called his name.

"No, it's….nothing, I'm fine, thank you," she replied, despising her own cowardice.

"Are you certain?"

Just say it, she thought, it is never going to be easy. Just _say_ it.

"Erik, I…I…I do _love_ you." she finally managed to say though very timidly.

The words felt so foreign to her. She had alluded to loving Erik, but had never said it to his face.She immediately felt vulnerable and defenseless underhis pensive stare. This time she could not run from his presence as she had so many times before. Now it was she who waited breathlessly for a response from him.

Erik had heard Meg's words, and he had watched her say them. They were words that no one in all his life had ever spoken to him. They were the words that he had been convinced no one ever would. He instantly longed for Meg to say them over and over a thousand times just so he could be sure that she really had. He felt as though his heart might burst inside his chest.

Meg waited for Erik to say or do something. But for a few moments he just stood there. She saw his chest start rise and fall as his breathing seemed to become heavy. He then rushed back to the bed where she lay. He knelt beside her brushed his hands over her tussled hair.

"You will never be able to fathom what that means to me, Meg. If I were to die at this very moment, for the first time I could feel as though my plagued existence hasbeen worthwhile."

He could hardly contain the adoration that he had for her pulsing through every inch of his body, as he continued to stroke her hair. She started to sit up, but he would not allow it. As much as he yearned to touch her and hold her, Erik knew that she was still very fragile and in need of much rest.

"But I want to stay with you," she protested.

He could not resist tenderly kissing her on the lips once more, and this time it was even more difficult for him to pull himself away from her.

"Marguerite, you have undoubtedly altered my life forever, in only the past few minutes. I think that is a more than an adequate accomplishment for someone in your condition, and I must insist that now you rest. I promise that I will stay with you."

Meg did not refuse him. She felt a bit like a child being tucked into bed, but at the same time she felt safe and content.

Erik watched as Meg's doe-like brown eyes slowly fell shut. He continued to lovingly caress her head and back until well after she had fallen asleep. He had never known such genuine happiness as he had that day. For the first time, he felt that his life had a purpose. He endeavored to believe that at last his days of suffering and self loathing were finally coming to an end.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Sorry for the long wait! I was having trouble uploading this chapter! I think it is the longest one yet, so I hope you like it. It gets a little steamy, so be prepared. I would love for lots of people to review, your comments and ideas are so helpful.**_

_**Chapter 19**_

Several days had passed since Erik rescued Meg from the La Havre Inn and brought her to his home beneath the Opera. He had scarcely allowed her to get out of bed since she had been there. He brought her everything she could possibly need or want, so that she would be able to rest and recover. Slowly she was beginning to feel more like herself. The swelling in her face had started to subside, her bruises had healed considerably, and she finally felt completely rid of the vile whiskey that Silvain had forced down her throat.

Meg woke up having no idea of the time of day to find that she was all alone in Erik's bedroom. Recently when she had awakened, Erik was usually right there watching over her while she slept. He was always near, caring for her and making sure she was comfortable, but he had not kissed her passionately since that cold night on the roof of the Opera. He would stroke her hair and gently kiss her cheeks and forehead, but nothing more. Meg could not have been more thankful and appreciative for the attentive care he had given her, but recently he made her feel like she was only a child, and that was the last thing she wanted to be in his eyes.

Every time Erik had come to her bedside to check on her or bring her something to eat, Meg had ached for him to look at her with desire in his eyes like he had the night of the Masquerade. She longed for him to take her in his arms so she could touch him and be with as a woman, not a little girl.

Meg decided that she was feeling much too restless to stay in bed any longer, and she was ready to finally get up and about. Erik's absence gave her the perfect opportunity to do this. She got out of bed and immediately caught sight of her own disheveled reflection in the mirror. Her hair was wild and tangled from a lack of brushing, and her face had bruises that were turning from purple to a strange hue of green. She had several scrapes that had scabbed over, and she was wearing a wrinkled white shirt that practically swallowed her whole.

No wonder he hasn't touched me, she thought. I look absolutely frightful.

Meg assumed that Erik was busy with his composing, so she decided that she was going to do her best to make herself look somewhat appealing to him again, or at the very least presentable. She was determined to make it clear to Erik that she was very much a mature woman, and she was fairly certain that she knew exactly how to go about this.

Erik sat at his massive organ working on his most recent composition. For weeks it had disagreed with him; he disputed every single note, and thus had made very little progress. Everything he played sounded horrid to his well trained ear. But since Meg had been there, he was able to compose melodies that he knew were better than anything he had written prior. He felt content for the first time in his life, and this allowed him to let note after note flow from his mind to his compositions.

Erik realized that it had been several hours since he had last been to check on Meg. However, he was glad that once again he could get so lost in his music that he could loose track of time. Erik had just stood up from his organ to go look in on Meg, when he saw her standing before him in the doorway.

He was completely stunned by the way she had changed from only a few hours ago. Her blond hair was flowing in shiny waves down her shoulders and back. The bruises and cuts on her face were still visible, but all Erik seemed tonotice were her full rose colored lips and dark sparkling eyes. When he looked down to the rest of her body, he realized that she was wearing only wool blanket from his bed that was slightly falling off her petite shoulders and revealing the slightest hint of hershapely form beneath.

Erik felt his heart starting to beat more rapidly. He hoped that she would say something quickly because he was so taken aback by her transformation that no words would come to him.

_Ahh... _there is that look I remember, Meg thought to herself triumphantly as she watched Erik gaze up and down at her in stunned silence.

She could once again see the lust in his luminous green eyes. Meg decided that she was not going to miss this opportunity. She was going to whatever she had to in order to lure him in to the amorous embrace that she had been yearning for. She was going to prove to him that she was not a little girl.

"I hope I am not disturbing you, Monsieur Phantom," she said in a playful yet seductive tone.

"Of course not," he somehow managed to get out. Then he paused for a moment and said, "You have been up for awhile I see, and….well," he nodded at the blanket that covered what he only hoped was her nude form.

"Oh yes… this," she said, without a hint of bashfulness. "I just could not bear to have on that same shirt for another minute, and I was not sure what else I could put on," she explained innocently.

There was a moment of awkward silence while Meg waited for Erik to respond.

Get a hold of yourself. She is injuredfor God's sake, he thought, attempting to calm the impure thoughts about Meg that were whirling wilding in his mind.

"Um…I am sure we can find you something," he finally said. "But Marguerite, I am not sure that you are quite ready to be up and about just yet, I think you may need some more time to recover," he said trying desperately to sound calm or at least sane.

Meg felt her cheeks becoming flushed with anger. There it was again, that fatherly demeanor that made her feel like a twelve year old girl. She began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Could she have just imagined the suggestive look in his eyes only moments ago?

"I really must insist that you get back into bed. It is much cooler down here than what you are accustomed to, and I would hate for you to add sickness to your injuries," he said hoping she could not see on his face how intensely he desired her.

"I will _not_ get back in bed," she said heatedly. "You are not my father or my keeper, and I will do as I please!"

Meg then stormed away from him in a dramatic fit of anger. She did not go back to his bed, but instead went into the room that was once made for Christine and then violently slammed the door.

Erik was baffled as to what he had said to offend her. In the past when she had run from him, he usually had some idea as to the reason. But now, he was just utterly confused. He thought about their brief conversation in his head, and hewas sure that he had not been rude in any way.

This is ridiculous, he thought. I haven't even done anything... _this time_.

Erik pounded on the door to the bedroom where Meg had locked herself inside.

"Marguerite, open the door! Come out this instant and speak to me!" Erik said loudly.

"Why… so you can put me to bed like I am an infant? I do not need to be told what to do by you or anyone else!"

Erik felt his blood beginning to boil.

"Judging by your present behavior that is exactly what you need. You are acting like a spoiled child! Now open the door or I swear I will break it down!" he thundered becoming more and more infuriated with her.

Meg was outraged with Erik for once again acting like her father, but she realized that he was right about how she was behaving, and that made her even more irritated. Locking herself in a bedroom and refusing to come out was extremely juvenile, and she knew it.

_Fine,_ she thought. If it is an adult he wants, then it is an adult he shall have.

She went over to the door to unlock it, but paused to allow the blanket she was wrapped in to fall just a little more off her shoulders.

Erik was still banging on the door, when he finally heard it unlock. Meg slowly opened it, and instantly her eyes met his. She was giving him a look that was somehow both angry and provocative. Erik suddenly felt powerless before her.

"You wanted to talk, Monsieur?" she said with a sarcastic sweetness.

Erik was now just close enough that he could breathe in the scent of her clean fragrant skin. Her smoky brown eyes seemed to look right through him, but he refused to beg for forgiveness when he was certain he had done nothing wrong.

"Yes, I do," he said.

Meg moved a little closer to him, still looking directly into his eyes with her piercing dark stare. Erik glanced down and saw the curve of her breasts that was slightly revealed at the top of the blanket she held tightly in her hands. Although he tried to suppress it, Erik felt his anger being replaced by the heat of lust that began to churn deep in the pit of his stomach.

"And what is it you would like to discuss, Monsieur?" she said still being obviously insincere.

Erik could not prevent himself from beginning to breathe more heavily. He tried desperately to control the compulsions of his body so that he could speak to Meg of sound mind.

"Why are you so angry, Marguerite? Why would you stomp away from me like a petulant child for no reason at all?" he retorted.

There it was again. This time he wasn't treating her like a child, he was accusing her of acting like one. But despite her animosity and resentment, the closeness to Erik's masculine body was making her start to feel flushed and dizzy. Everything about him was arousing to her, even the white mask that mysteriously covered half of his face.

"I assure you, Monsieur Phantom," she said with great formality as she brazenly leaned her soft body into his, "I am _not_ a child."

Their eyes were still locked with one another's, and her face was now only inches from his.

I've gone this far, Meg told herself, trying to muster all her courage at once.

She leaned up and pressed her soft lips aggressively to his. Her kiss was not slow and gentle as it had been before. It was suddenly eager and sensual as she slipped her silky tongue inside of Erik's welcoming mouth.

Erik returned Meg's kiss with a seemingly savage need. He hungrily kissed her lips and drove his tongue into the depths of her smooth silken mouth. She continued to hold the blanket that was wrapped around her tightly, as Erik began to greedily explore her body. He rubbed his hands down her back and pulled her into him right below her hips. He heard her let out a small moan of pleasure, and he became frenzied with desire.

He could hardly believe thatMeg had initiated such a moment. But he immediately began toworry when he felt his body begin react to his wanton arousal. However, to his surprise, Meg did not try to pull herself away from him. In fact, he was shocked by the way she seemed to be almost forcibly pushing herself up against his large frame.

Without thinking, he lifted Meg up with great ease right where they stood in the door way. She instinctively wrapped her long legs around his waist while he held her in his powerful arms. They continued to kiss with an almost violent fury. He leaned her up against the wall forcefully, and he could feel her squeezing him tightly between her legs. Erik thought he might completely loose his mind; all he could sense were the animalistic urges of his own body. His hands felt Meg's satiny bare skin where the blanket that she still held began to fall. He had become blind with carnal need.

Within moments he had carried Meg to the bed that was once intended for Christine. With her still wrapped around his waist, he collapsed onto the yielding mattress. Erik just faintly felt Meg's hips slowly begin to move naturally against him. The sensation was enoughto drive him absolutely mad. He had to have her…_now_. He held her closely, and at last she let the blanket that concealed her dropped to the floor. He felt the heat from the supple skin of her naked body. He was now certain that Meg was going to allow him to have her right there at that moment.

Erik wanted her so badly thathe thought it might actually kill him, but almost as if something else was controlling his actions, he felt himself starting to pull his lips away from hers. Despite every ounce ofdesire in him,he reached for the blanket that had fallen down around them and wrapped it back around Meg's shoulders. He lifted her off of him and quickly walked across the room.

When he turned back to look and Meg, he could tell she completely confused by his behavior.

Hell, _he_ was confused by his behavior. I must be out of my mind, he thought, as he looked at Meg lying on the bed half naked and flushed with lust…_for him._

"Erik, did I do something wrong?" she asked, sounding hurt.

He walked back over to her, and she sat up to meet him.

"No, Meg you did nothing wrong, nothing at all," he said, trying to reassure her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck causing the blanket to fall and expose her body to him once again. She then began to kiss him deeply. He gave into her for a moment. She was so beautiful, and she actually seemed to genuinely want _him_. It was a moment he had thought he would never experience, and certainly never with a ravishing women that he loved.

Erik gently took her arms from around neck and held her hands in his. He looked deeply into her eyes.

"We cannot do this Meg, not like this," he said as he attempted to cover her up again.

Meg was dumbfounded. She had no idea why he had stopped, and she was also very consumed by the feeling of wanting that had taken control of her.

"But, I love you Erik…I thought that you loved me. I thought you would _want_ to be with me. I want you to make me truly yours," she said, trying again to touch her lips to his.

"Dear God, Meg…are you trying to kill me?" he asked still frustrated with physical desire. "Of course I want to be with you. I want it more than anything I have ever wanted in my life. I am already afraid that I may regret this decision forever, but you must understand that it is because I love youthat I cannot do this."

Erik could tell that Meg still did not understand what he trying to tell her. Her big brown eyes were downcast and she had wrapped herself up in the wool blanket and pulled slightlyaway from him.

"Meg, please listen to me," he said lifting her chin so that he could look into her sad eyes. "I love you, and I simply will not disgrace you like this out of desperate lust. When we are together for the first time it should be pure and perfect. Meg, I never dreamed that I would ever be able to have a woman like you in all of my tormented life, and I will not make you a whore by violating you while we are unwed."

Meg looked at him with pain in her eyes, and Erik wished instantly that he could take back his words.What he was trying to profess was that hewanted her to be his wife _before_ they made love. But somehow in the process he had destroyed the meaning behind his own words. He had managed to insult her decency when he was trying to ask her to marry him. He had no idea how to undo the damaging things that had just escaped his mouth.

"Is _that_ what you were doing... violating me? And if I would have given myself to you, body and soul, then I would have been a whore in your eyes?" she asked dejected and hurt.

"Meg… that's not what I meant," he tried to explain, but he could see thatshe had already closed herself off from him.

"Well, you have no need to worry about my chastity any further because I promise you that I will never give you the chance to _violate_ me ever again," she said angrily though her eyes were glassy with tears.

"Meg, please, can't you understand...I was trying to tell that I want to marry you," he pleaded.

"Marry you? Why… to keep me from becoming some filthy harlot? No, I will never marry you!" she screamed as she attempted to hold back her tears.

Her words stung Erik sharply. He suddenly felt sick with fear that he had ruined the most wonderful thing that ever occurred in his agonizing life. The thought of Meg leaving him made him bitter with both sadness and rage. Now that he hadexperienced aglimpse of life with her, he knew that he could never endure being alone again.

"I am getting out of here right now," Meg shouted, "I hope I never see you again!"

She started to leave the room, but Erik grabbed her fiercely by the arm. His fear of losing her and being alone took over his actions. He simply could not let her go.

"Let go of me… you can't keep me here! I'm leaving, and you can't stop me!" she yelled, as she struggled in vain against his powerful grasp.

"I can keep you here, and I will!" he roared back at her.

"I despise you, and I will never be your wife…ever!"

"You will hold your tongue from now on Mademoiselle," he said tightening his grip on her arm. "Despise me or not you will stay here, and you will be my wife if I command it!"

Meg finally worked her way out of his grip. She bolted from the room and he heard a door slam and lock for the second time in the past few hours. He could hear her sobbing down the hall, and it broke his heart. He did not know how things had fallen apart so quickly. It was only moments ago that he was on the verge of making love to Meg, and now she hated him. He had said horrible things to her that he knew he could not take back.

You stupid fool, he thought. You had everything you ever longed for and you've ruined it all.

Erik stood silently outside Meg's door until he heard her eventually stop weeping. He did nottry to speak to her, but he still wanted to be near her. She had said that she despised him. She was the only woman who had ever loved him, and he destroyed that love in only a matter of days.

Erik pondered how he couldpossibly restore his relationship with Meg over and over again. It seemed his options were impervious and few.He could force her to stay with him and marry him like he had threatened which would at least keep him from being alone. He could give in and allow her to leave him and then die slowly of heart ache. Erik decided his only feasible option was to try to keep Meg there long enough to attempt to earn her forgiveness. If he did this, maybe there would be some chance of her being able to love him again.


	20. Chapter 20

_**To all of you who got frustrated with Meg, I hope she can redeem herself to you. Remember, she is young and in love for the first time which makes her completely irrational.**__**Enjoy! Please let me know what you think! Your reviews are wonderful!**_

_**Chapter 20**_

Meg stared up at the tiny cracks in ceiling of Erik's room while lying in his bed for what seemed like days. She knew it had probably only been a few hours since she woke up, but it felt like an eternity. She had been thinking relentlessly about her fight with Erik and the words that were exchanged between them. All she could seem to remember was that she had told him she despised him. Although it _was _rather crudely, he had told her he wanted to marry her, and that was how she responded.

Meg started to regret the things she had screamed at him almost the moment after she entered his room and slammed the door behind her. He did yell at her, but she knew it was because she had hurt him.

You told him that you never wanted to see him again, she thought.

Meg considered the reality of actually leaving Erik and never seeing him again like she said she wanted to, and it made her feel sick to her stomach. She _loved_ him. She loved him with all her heart, and she knew without him she would never feel truly happy again. She did not want to leave him or ever hurt him in any way. But it was already too late for that.

He wants to marry me….or at least he _did_, she thought. He wanted to wait to be with me until I became his wife. Oh course, he didn't go about conveying it very well, but I should have just listened.

The idea of having Erik in her life forever seemed so natural to Meg. It made her think of having a family again, and for the first time since her mother had died, she felt whole. Meg was terrified that she had already ended their love before it ever had a chance to begin. Erik had been so good to her, and she treated him so cruelly.

I don't deserve his love or forgiveness, she thought. Why can't I learn to think before I speak?

Before she had time to even begin to ponder the question, a light tapping on the door startled her.

"I took the liberty of getting a few of your things," Erik said from outside door. "They are in the other room."

Meg did not say anything back. She wanted to desperately, but she did not even know where to begin.

You have really made a mess of things this time, she thought. What could you possibly say to him? "Oh Erik, I am so sorry for being such a hateful witch, I _am _very childish, and you were right about everything, now can we please get married?"

Meg rolled over and pushed her face into the pillows on Erik's bed. She could not get the idea of losing him out of her mind. It made her chest hurt, and she felt as though she couldn't breathe. The thought of him with someone else, some other woman, was simply too painful for her to endure. Her wandering mind then drifted to Christine.

I was worse to him than she ever was, Meg thought to herself, and he will _never _forgive her.

Eventually, she realized that hiding in a bedroom was what had started this horrid situation in the first place, and so she decided to get up and see what Erik had brought from her dressing room. Meg knew she should be concerned about her friends at the Opera and her position as prima ballerina, but right now none of that seemed to matter. Her life that existed hundreds of feet above had drifted away like a far off dream. All she could think about was Erik.

It was almost nine in the morning when Erik finally heard the door to his bedroom creak open. Knowing how stubborn Meg could be, he had worried that she might not emerge for days. Instead of rushing down the hall straight to her like he wanted to, he decided it was better to leave her alone until she came to him. Of course, he understood that this may take days or even weeks, but he had waited his entire life for Meg without realizing it, and he was willing to bide his time as long as he had to.

About an hour had passed since Erik heard Meg come out of his room. He sat in an arm chair next to his organ reading in the dim candle light trying to pass the time. Prepared to wait for days before she would speak to him, he was extremely taken aback when he looked up to see her standing across the room. She had put on a dress of dark crimson with delicate ivory colored lace at the neck and sleeves. Her long golden hair was pinned up in a simple yet elegant chignon which revealed her long, swan-like neck.

All she needs is crown, he thought.

Erik instantly tensed up as Meg came walking towards him. He was sure from the things she said during their confrontation that she was about to demand for him to let her go. Although he would attempt to keep her there however he could, in the end he simply could not bear the thought of making her unhappy.

In an effort to please her, he had brought several dresses and other items from her room in the opera house. He then arranged them carefully in the same room he once had prepared for Christine. It comforted him mildly to see that she had chosen to put one of them on.

As Meg moved a little closer, Erik prepared himself for the worst.

"Thank you… for bringing some of my clothing," she said with her eyes cast downward.

Erik was _very_ surprised. The last thing he expected to hear from Meg at that moment was a thank you.

"You're welcome. If you wish, I can bring more when I get the opportunity," he offered, feeling extremely glad that she was not screaming at him to release her.

Erik had to be careful when he was creeping around Meg's room in the middle of the day. The last thing he needed was to be caught in the dressing room of a girl who was missing from the opera.

"That won't be necessary," she said with her eyes still focused on the floor.

Meg had no desire for Erik to put any more of her things into _that_ room which she knew had originally been for Christine. She did not want a room of her own; she wanted to be with him, in his room and in his bed.

"Really Marguerite, you may as well try to make yourself comfortable here, since you may be here for an extended period of time."

The fact that Erik still wanted her in his home, gave Meg some hope that perhaps he still loved her and could forgive her awful behavior.

"No, it really is not necessary, but thank you just the same," she answered.

Erik was sure that the reason Meg did not want any more of her belongings brought there was because she did not plan on staying herself. He would have to make it clear to her that he did not intend to just let her go.

"I hope you aren't saying this because you think I am going let you leave or escape," he said bluntly, wishing he didn't have to.

For the first time since she entered the room, Meg lifted her face from the floor and looked directly into his eyes.

"I have no intention of leaving, Erik."

Erik raised a perplexed eyebrow and just looked at Meg through his white mask, not really knowing what she was trying to say.

"Then why wouldn't you want me to get more of your things for your room?" he asked somewhat accusingly, as he stood up and began to pace back and forth.

"Because Erik, if this ever becomes my _real_ home, I do not plan on having my own room," she said, praying that he would understand what she meant and give her some sign that he still felt the same.

"I am not certain I comprehend what you mean, Marguerite," he said.

So much for that, she thought.

Meg looked deep into Erik's clear green eyes, "I mean that as far as I know…it is customary for a husband and wife to share a room… and a bed."

Erik's eyes widened and his mind began to race. Had she just said husband and wife? Was it possible that she was saying that she _wanted_ to marry him?

"But that is only if you can forgive a childish girl for acting so dreadfully foolish and unkind," she said pleading with her eyes for his forgiveness.

"Meg, I…" he started to say something, but she didn't let him finish.

"Erik please, you _must_ forgive me," she said as her eyes welled up with tears. "I love you Erik, I will do anything you want. I can't loose you, I just can't. I know I said such terrible things, and I don't deserve your forgiveness or love, but..."

She wiped her tears away and tried to calm herself by taking a few deep breaths.

"Erik… I want nothing more than to be your wife. Please tell me that you still want me to be."

Erik's world stood completely still. He could not move or breathe and all he could feel was an aching deep inside his heart. He was utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of being loved. He never thought it possible that someone would ever be afraid of losing _him_. He realized that he had at last found what he had been searching for his entire life, someone who could return the unconditional love that he had to give. His hideous face and broken heart had finally found a home.

There was no doubt in his mind that Meg meant every word she said, and the fact that she hurt as deeply as he did at the thought of being apart made him realize that what she felt for him was real. She wanted to marry him, she was going to be his wife, and he knew would cherish her every moment with her until the day he died.

Meg could not take Erik's silent stare any longer, "Please… say something…anything. Can you ever forgive me?"

Erik took Meg's hands in his and kissed them gently.

"There is nothing to forgive. Nothing you ever say or do will make me stop loving you. My love does not come with any reservations, Meg. It does not disappear with angry words or anything else. You have my heart and my soul. I am yours and yours alone...forever."

Meg kissed him gently on his soft lips. She was overjoyed that she had not lost the chance to be with Erik. He held her tightly and she laid her head against his shoulder.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"How will we be married if you cannot let anyone see you?"

"Don't worry, Marguerite, nothing is going to stand in the way of me making you my wife… I will take care of everything."

Erik spent every moment for the rest of the day right by Meg's side. He played for her and read to her in the yellow glow of the fire light. She laid her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers though his hair. His dark home in the depths of the opera had never seemed so pleasant and warm.

Later in the evening, but earlier than Meg realized, Erik sat next to her on his bed, and watched her dark eyelashes grow heavy as she fell quietly asleep. Erik looked at her lovingly for awhile longer and then stealthily began to creep from the room. Before he could make it to the door he heard Meg's soft voice, but he could not understand what she was saying. He went back to the bed to see if she needed him.

"Meg?" he whispered, "Did you want something?"

With her eyes still closed, she asked him a question he never could have predicted.

"Erik, if _she_ came back to you… would you still want me?"

For a moment he did not say anything. Her question caught him completely off guard. He knew this was a subject that he would have to handle delicately. Meg had been there to witness how wildly obsessed with Christine he had been, so it made sense that this would be a source of insecurity for her. The last thing in the world Erik wanted was for Meg to feel second best to anyone. He could only hope that he could express how devoted to her he truly was.

"Yes Meg, I will always want you and only you. I could never care for anyone else. I love you with every part of me. I told you before I am yours and yours alone, and I will _never_ betray you."

His answer must have satisfied her because she momentarily smiled and nodded, but then she was completely lost in sleep.

Erik knew he was going to be up for many more hours, and he was glad he had been able to use the perpetual darkness of the cellars to get Meg to sleep when it was still very early.

She wanted to marry him, and he was going to make that happen as soon as he possibly could. Erik knew Meg loved him, but in the back of his mind he would always fear losing her. Making her his wife would ensure that she was truly his forever, and he did not plan to delay.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Thank you for my reviews! I am so glad you were able to forgive Meg. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I plan my next update to be very soon. You are all the best, and thanks again!**_

_**Chapter 21**_

The heavy hooves of Erik's ebony horse thundered across the ground as he rode as fast as he could through the streets of Paris in the fading daylight. He avoided main streets whenever possible so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. He had hoped to get to the outskirts of the city before dark, but he still had a few miles to go, and the last rays of sun were already disappearing from the sky.

Erik realized the moment he even thought about marrying Meg that he would have to enlist the help of someone who could walk the streets of Paris during the day inconspicuously. There were many things that would have to be done in order for everything to run smoothly, and Erik would accept nothing less than perfection for Meg. He wanted to give her everything that her heart desired and more. Although he had vowed to make himself dead to all those who lived in the light of day, marrying Meg was more than enough of a reason to come back to world of the living.

Just as it became almost completely dark, Erik spotted his destination. The small cottage surrounded by a dilapidated stone wall was exactly how he remembered it. He hated to arrive unannounced, but there was really no other way. He tied up his winded black horse and headed up pebbled walkway to the door of his old friend's modest home.

Before Erik had even raised his hand to knock, the door swung open quickly to reveal the face of a dark-skinned man that he had not seen in almost two years. Nadir looked exactly the same to him as he had the last time they had spoken in this same tiny cottage. It was then that Nadir had just recently moved to this house, and he having lost Christine, swore he would never again make contact with the outside world again.

"Erik…I can hardly believe it is you! I heard someone riding up outside, but you were the last person I would have expected," Nadir said in disbelief of the masked man who stood in his doorway.

"Good evening Nadir, it is a pleasure to finally see you again," Erik said slightly bowing in his usual overly proper manner.

"Yes, yes…please do come inside," he said shirking off Erik's formal greeting. Nadir knew this man much too well for small talk or formalities, but he also knew this was just Erik's way.

The inside of Nadir's home was warm with a crackling fire. He and Erik walked into the front room that was sparsely yet tastefully decorated. Nadir looked inquisitively at him for a few moments before he spoke.

"I am so glad to see you looking so healthy and well. The last time I saw you...oh, you were an awful fright, just terrible really, and,"

"Nadir," Erik said cutting him off, "I am completely aware of my state when we saw each other last, and I would rather not discuss the details."

"Of course, of course, my apologies," Nadir said feeling slightly guilty. "But Erik, you told me then never to attempt to contact you ever again. You said that you would remain dead to the world as they assumed you were."

"I know what I said Nadir, and I _was_ dead for almost two years. However, the past few months have breathed new life into my wretched soul. I feel as though I am starting anew and nothing is as it once was. I suddenly have everything in the world to live for, and it is a feeling that is extremely foreign to me."

"You do seem quite different. It is very comforting to hear you talking about something other than darkness and death. I have worried about you in that dungeon of a home, all alone in the darkness day in and day out. I hated to think of you spending all your time obsessing over your lost love. But do tell me…what is that has brought such a miraculous change in you?" Nadir asked still stunned by Erik's behavior.

"I have found a new love, a _real _love, Nadir. I love a woman whose beauty and kindness are indescribable. She is incredibly talented and passionate, and by some strange twist of fate she has agreed to marry me. This is why I have come here, Nadir. I cannot make all the necessary preparations if I am to remain dead to this dreadful city. So I fear I have come to ask for your help," Erik said with urgency in his voice.

"Married? Married? You're getting married?" Nadir said in utter shock. He suddenly realized how rude his reaction was and tried to cover up his indiscretion. "Erik, I will be honored to help in whatever way I possibly can. I am completely at your disposal. Tell me, who is the wonderful woman that has stolen your heart?"

"Her name is Marguerite Giry," Erik said, adoring even the sound of her name on his lips.

Nadir's face went suddenly pale and still. Erik saw his look of pure shock and waited for him to say something. After a few moments he finally spoke.

"I should have known," he whispered as though he were trying to keep someone from overhearing him.

"For God's sake, Nadir, what is the matter with you? What should you have known?" Erik demanded not understanding his odd reaction to Meg's name.

"I should have known that when a young woman went missing from the Opera that you would be responsible. It is her, is it not….the prima ballerina…the petite blond?" he asked accusingly.

"I had nothing to do with her getting kidnapped," Erik snapped defensively, "and how would you know she is missing anyway?"

"Everyone in Paris knows Erik! The Marquis….the Marquis de Condorcet, he has been sending out hoards of men searching for her all over the city. He has a huge reward up for her return. He has vowed to slaughter whoever is responsible for her abduction. It has been in the papers, and people are speaking of it all over town. All anyone is talking about is the poor Marquis who has lost his one true love," he spouted out seemingly becoming more distressed with every word.

Erik's head began to throb, and he started to become filled with an overwhelming jealous fury. Just the idea of another man thinking of Meg, and trying to make a claim to her enraged him. She belonged to _him_, and she was going to be _his_ wife. Erik's mind was swarming with a million images of the many ways he could easily, yet painfully murder the Marquis.

I knew I should have killed him from the moment I heard his arrogant voice, Erik thought as he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

"Erik, that is not all," Nadir said quietly, terrified to tell him anything more, "the Marquis has been offering the reward for the return of his… fiancé."

Nadir winced trying to prepare himself for what he knew was going to be an outburst of sheer violent rage. He did not have to wait long. Erik picked up a small wooden chair from beside a round marble table and threw it ferociously against the wall where it smashed into several pieces and fell to the floor. Fearing for the rest of his furniture and his home, Nadir decided he needed to try to calm Erik as quickly as he could.

"Erik, please…listen to me. You say Marguerite has agreed to marry you, correct?"

"Yes," he snarled.

"You are sure she is marrying you out of love?" he asked, hoping the answer would also be a "yes."

Erik looked his old friend straight in the eyes, "Nadir, she knows I am just a man with a distorted face living beneath the opera. She does not fear me, nor does she believe me to be an angel or ghost," he said sounding defeated. "I don't know why she cares about me in the least, but I swear to you she does."

Nadir could see the sincerity in Erik's cool green eyes. Although he could be brutal and impetuous, he was not one to lie when it came to matters of love.

"Then you should rest your mind my friend. The Marquis must be claiming she is his fiancé, so that he has a reason to search for her so relentlessly," Nadir offered, praying Erik would accept this explanation instead of destroying more of his belongings.

"He _must_ be lying," Erik said aloud trying to convince himself as well as Nadir, "she told me she did not even like him. I told her not to see him again, and she didn't. She told me she loved me, Nadir. I am certain that she meant it."

"Erik if you truly love her, and you are sure she loves you, I will do whatever I can to help you marry. You more than anyone deserve to feel some happiness in this life. But we must be very cautious; the Marquis is not a man to be toyed with. He has men everywhere searching for any sign of Marguerite," Nadir said with grave seriousness.

"Perhaps, I will just dispose of this vile lying demon before he becomes any more of an obstacle for me," Erik said angrily.

"I thought you had enough of being hunted by angry mobs of people demanding your head in a noose," Nadir responded sarcastically. "Tell me what you need me to do to help you, Erik. You have had enough blood and death for many lifetimes; let us focus on getting you married to the woman you love."

Nadir saw Erik's angry face instantly soften at the idea of marrying Meg.

"Thank you for agreeing to help me, Nadir. Forgive me for my behavior, and please allow me to replace the chair. I will be forever in your debt if I am able to make Marguerite my wife, " Erik said as he immediately reverted back to his normal refined manner.

He new that Nadir was right. He refused to allow himself to believe that Meg had agreed to marry the Marquis. She had never given him any reason to believe that she had feelings for anyone else. He sat down on Nadir's sofa and took out a large bag of gold coins. His old friend sat down next to him, and they began to make all the arrangements necessary for Erik's well devised plan for his marriage to Meg. The Marquis could be dealt with later; right now the most important thing in his world was making certain that he would have Meg forever.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Not the most eventful chapter I'm afraid, but Erik has some insecurity issues to deal with that can't be ignored. I appreciate those of you who sent me reviews so much. Please keep reviewing and enjoy!**_

_**Chapter 22**_

Erik was very careful not to make a sound as he crept around his dark home beneath the opera having just returned from meeting with Nadir. He did not want Meg to wake up and see him sneaking around fully dressed with his cloak on, and then start asking questions about his whereabouts. He wanted everything to be a wonderful surprise for her. Erik was so extremely pleased with all the arrangements that he and Nadir had made for the wedding that he had almost been able to forget about the miserable Marquis de Condorcet and his foul obsession with Meg.

Except for hundreds of guests, Erik was going to give Meg a wedding that most young women could only ever dream about. He had given Nadir more than enough money to procure all the things that he insisted he have for Meg. He would spare no expense; she had to have the very best of everything. Nadir was absolutely shocked when Erik told him about the ring he was to purchase for her. It was a ring that had once belonged to the Persian Princess Parysatis, and it would cost a small fortune. But in Erik's eyes, Meg _was _a princess, and he wanted to give her something that would remind her everyday that there was nothing he would not do for her. The ring was an immense emerald embellished with elegant diamonds, and it would announce to any man who dare look her way that she was very much taken.

Erik put his cloak and jacket in Christine's old room, which Meg had started referring to as _that_ room, or the _other_ room. He could not help but notice her twinge of jealously every time she mentioned it. He decided to look in on her while she slept mostly because he just longed to gaze upon the face of the woman he loved. He quietly opened the door to his room, thrilled to know that it was not empty as it had been for so many years. Erik would never take for granted the wonderful feeling of having someone to come home to. He looked in the dim candlelight for the sight of Meg's tiny frame asleep in his bed, and what he saw made his heart felt as though it had fallen from his chest. The covers of his bed were ruffled where Meg had been lying, but she was no longer fast asleep where he had left her several hours ago.

Erik yelled Meg's name a few times, but his only response was his own faint echo, and a deafening silence that seemed to be mocking him.

Erik felt instantaneously weak all over, and he dropped to his knees as he glared at the empty bed before him. Meg was gone; he knew she could not be in the _other _room, because that is where he had just put his cloak and jacket. Erik's worst fears seemed to be coming true. She must have left him…escaped. Erik felt as though a huge weight was being forced down on his throat, and he could barely get enough air to breathe.

He began to question everything that he had thought to be real only seconds before. Could everything she said have been a trick to help her get away from him, he wondered frantically. Had he been a complete fool to ever think that she could love him or want to marry him?

Of course you are a fool, he told himself. She is young, beautiful and talented; anyone would love her. She could have her pick of any man in France. You are a hideous old beast who lives in the dark basements of the opera, what reason would she ever have for loving you? She ran from you at the very first opportunity that arose, he thought disgusted with himself.

Feeling utterly vanquished and destroyed, Erik crumbled to the floor in front of the bed that Meg once slept in. He could not even muster any anger in his tired beaten heart. Only agonizing pain enveloped him. He hid his masked face in his hands and wept on the cold stone floor much like he had when he was a child. The memories of rejection from his youth washed over his broken spirit. Although he was completely alone, he felt as though the whole world was laughing at the pitiful monster who thought he found love.

His next thought was even more agonizing. Perhaps Meg _actually_ was engaged to the Marquis, and she had just lied to him so she could get back to the man she really loved and planned to marry. Erik's heart felt as though it were being stabbed over and over again. This was too much misery…even for him.

He finally lifted himself up from the floor; his only motivation now was to end his suffering for good. He simply did not have the strength left in him to live through the loss of Meg. Erik could still see her dark eyes and smell her alluring skin as if she were right in front of him. Strangely, he felt no anger towards her as tears poured down his half mangled face. He could not expect her to give up her life for _him_, only a wretched piece of a man. She had given him more happiness than he had ever known, and he would leave his tormented existence with the memory of her face and touch in his mind.

Erik stumbled towards his music room blinded by tears where he decided he would play one last piece of music before putting a revolver to his aching head. He could not leave his only true lifetime companion without saying goodbye. He wondered what his last piece should be only for a moment, and then resolved to play something that he knew Meg would have adored. Her dance melody from _Samson et Delilah_ would be the perfect way to imagine her gracefully moving like a fairy across the stage before he met his final demise.

Erik walked to the familiar sight of his organ as he longed for death to relieve him. He was half way across the room when he was stopped dead in his tracks. Lying on the chase in the corner was a small mound covered in a white blanket. Hanging down from the hidden mass were long blond locks of hair. Logically, Erik knew that it must be Meg, but he was too terrified to allow himself to believe it.

"Meg," he whispered choking on his salty tears.

He saw her begin to stir; she stretched slightly and then pulled down the blanket that had been almost covering her entire head. She blinked her eyes and pushed her hair away from her face.

"Erik," she said sleepily as her eyes met his. "Erik, where were you?" she asked still groggy, and a little confused.

When Meg was able to focus on him in the light of only the low burning candle she had used earlier, she realized that something was awfully wrong.

"Erik, what has happened? You look so terribly upset," she said getting up from the chase and rushing towards him.

He did not speak a word; he only stared at her as he wept uncontrollably.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and embraced him. He was sobbing so hard that his entire body was shaking. Meg had no idea what had happened to hurt him so grievously, but she could not bear to watch him suffer this way. It was hard for her to imagine what could have occurred to the strong dominant man she loved to make him weep in such a violent manner.

"Erik," she said holding his reddened damp face in her delicate hands, "Erik, my love, what is the matter? Please tell me, nothing in the world pains me more than seeing you hurt like this."

He still did not speak, but tears continued to fall from his eyes. Meg's heart was breaking for him, and she did not know what was wrong or what to do. It made her feel completely helpless. Instinctually, she began to kiss his uncovered cheek. His skin was salty and moist from weeping.

"Oh, please Erik, what can I do? What has happened? Can you please tell me?" she begged wanting to know how to help him.

Erik held her tightly, but he seemed unable to say anything. Meg continued to hold him as she tried to wipe away his tears.

"I was so worried about you," she said. "I woke up because I had an awful nightmare about…_before_… at the inn. I went to find you, and I thought you might be composing, so I sat down on the chase, and I guess I fell back to sleep. Where were you Erik? What went on that has made you so bereaved?" she asked.

"I… I thought…when you weren't….I thought you left me," he said breathlessly, choking on his tears.

"Left you? Is _that _why you are so grief-stricken? Erik, I will never leave you. Why would you think such a thing?" she said looking into his bloodshot eyes. "I love you. I would rather die than live without you. I want to spend my life with you Erik, the last thing I would ever want is to loose you."

"But why Meg? _Why_ do love me? I have every reason in the world to love you, but there is no logical reason for you to even want to be in same room with me. I am such a despicable creature, so old and repulsive, why would you want to waste your life with me?" he asked loathing every aspect of his being.

Meg looked lovingly at Erik and smiled as she brushed his black hair away from his face, "Oh Erik, my dark fantome of the opera, if you could only see yourself in my eyes, you would look upon such a flawless reflection."

"Meg, I'm serious," Erik said trying to steady his breathing, but she did not let him continue.

"No…I_ am_ serious. Erik, you must stop seeing yourself as some kind of monster. This view could not be further from the truth. Don't you realize that every time I close my eyes I see your face? Do you know that I have memorized every detail of your eyes and lips and hair and skin? I am amazed by your talent, your passion, and your sheer brilliance. The sound of your voice makes me feel like I am floating and I will never touch the earth again. Every second that I am in your presence I feel hot and dizzy with lust. There is simply nothing about you that I do not love and adore…nothing."

Erik started to speak, but then his eyes became glassy with tears once more. Meg stood up on her tip toes and kissed him softly. She very tenderly traced the outside of his lips with her tongue, and then tenuously began to kiss him more deeply. She could feel his grasp around her waist tightening, and she was just glad that she had been able to calm his fears if only for a moment.

She pulled away from him slowly and looked into his cool green eyes that were exhausted from weeping. She cupped his face in her hands.

"Erik, I want you to do something for me, my love," she said compassionately.

"Meg, you know I will do anything you desire, anything," he replied still sounding beaten down and miserable.

"I want you to look me in my eyes and tell me that you know I love you more than anything in the world. I want you to say out loud that you know in your heart that I want to be your wife, and that I will never leave you. I want to hear you say it," she said firmly.

"Meg, I don't know if I can," he said casting his eyes to the floor.

"Why Erik? Is it because you don't believe that I love you, or is it because you feel that you do not deserve to be loved?"

"I don't know, perhaps both," he replied feeling like a school boy being lectured.

"Well, we are not leaving this room until you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I love you. So what exactly am I going to have to do to prove it?" Meg said with great conviction.

She wanted to settle this once and for all. She refused to marry a man who did not truly believe she loved him. Even though she understood why this was so difficult for him, she also could not have him doubting her feelings for the rest of their lives.

"You don't have to do anything Meg, I am just glad you are still here," he said.

"Erik, I will not spend my life with a man who is always wondering when I am going to leave, or what I could possibly want with him. That is no way to start a marriage. So what will make you believe I love you? I will do anything, right here, right now. You can have my body, my soul, whatever you want."

Erik looked down and said nothing. Meg was beginning to get frustrated. She needed some kind of reaction from him. She walked over to a small shelf adjacent to the organ and picked up a tiny blade, she held it in her hands and looked straight into Erik's eyes.

"Shall I bleed myself until you know I love you, starve myself, or cut off all my hair? Tell me Erik, what do I need to do?" she said quite dramatically.

"Put that down!" he said, pulling the blade from her hand and then placing it back on the shelf. "I don't want you to hurt yourself or suffer to prove you love me, Meg," he said getting very perturbed with her. He could hardly believe how determined she could get.

"Alright, then what shall I do? Erik, until you can look into my eyes and say that you know I love you, I am going to keep asking, over and over, and over again."

"Meg, I just cannot understand it! Don't you see? I will never understand why you would love me, or why you would be willing to endure my touch as disgraceful as I am," he said heatedly.

Meg walked over to him and kissed him solidly on the lips. Then she looked at him with her beckoning dark eyes.

"I love you…I love you, and I want to be your wife. I would like to _endure_ your touch as you say right at this very moment, and everyday for the rest of my life," she said still keeping her eyes locked with his.

Her words washed away the pain and self loathing in Erik's heart momentarily, but it was not long before his doubts came rushing back into his mind. He didn't know if he would ever be able to say that he _knew_ Meg loved him and would _never_ leave him. But hearing her tell him made him feel renewed, if only briefly.

"Say it Meg," he whispered.

"I love you, Erik."

"Say it again," he said more strongly this time.

"I love you, and I want to marry you," she said looking deep into his fair green eyes.

"Meg, if you truly wish for me to know you love me, I will need to hear you say it over and over again every time you feel it," he said as he pulled her near him. "I want you to tell me every feeling you ever have for me, and everything you ever want or need from me. I will never hear it enough, Meg, never."

Meg began to feel lightheaded as she felt his powerful arms wrapped around her, if he needed her to tell him to believe that she loved him, she would tell him endlessly.

"I love you so much, Erik, you make me feel so…so….," she leaned her head up longing for him to kiss her but he didn't.

"So what…Meg? Tell me, I need to hear you say it, I need to know what you want and what you feel," he said in her ear as his voice made her senses start reeling.

"So….wanting," she said finally.

"Wanting of what, Meg, tell me," he gently demanded.

"Wanting of your kiss and your touch," she said.

Erik leaned in and kissed her passionately. His tongue whirled in her warm mouth, and he embraced her tightly; he too began to feel lightheaded with desire. He began to kiss the smooth creamy skin of her neck and collar bone. Meg started to feel a burning heat in the pit of her stomach, but then she remembered what he had said to her the last time she had fallen victim to his seductive touch.

"Erik I love you, my darling. I am afraid if we continue I may beg for you to _violate_ me despite our being unwed," she said in reference to their previous encounter when they had taken things too far.

Erik stopped caressing her neck with his mouth because he knew that she was right.

"I am afraid that if you asked me, I would not be able to refuse," he admitted honestly.

"Meg, I want to be able to say….what you want me say, but it may take time. I've spent my entire life believing that I would never receive anyone's love," he said as he ran his fingers through her silken hair.

"Erik, if hearing it is what you need, I will tell you until you grow tired of me saying it," she said smiling.

"I am certain, my dear, that day will never come," he responded also finally slightly smiling. "As much as it pains me to say it, I think we should probably calm ourselves and try to go to sleep. It _is _the middle of the night, after all."

"Will you lay with me and hold me while we sleep?" Meg asked hoping he would agree.

"Marguerite, I told you once before that I am only a man of flesh and blood, and feeling your body next to mine while lying in bed would no doubt ensure the demise of our pure wedding night."

Meg nodded, she knew what he said was true. With great ease, Erik swept Meg up into his arms and carried her back to his bed. He laid her down and pulled the blankets up over her for the second time that night.

"I will never stop loving you Erik," Meg said as he looked down over her.

"I don't deserve you to have you," Erik said, immediately realizing that these were not the ideal choice of words.

Meg eyes shot daggers at him, "Erik that is exactly what I mean, you absolutely _do_ deserve me, and I do not want to hear otherwise" she said crossly, but affectionately.

"Marguerite, you must comprehend that even if I begin to truly believe in your love for me, I will never stop being astonished it," he said as he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

As he sat next to her, he tried to allow himself to accept that she could really want and love only him. He had to duel with his own mind to keep all the reasons it could not be true from screaming in his head. He vowed at that moment that he would always try to trust in her, no matter how hard it was for him. In only a few days, she would be his wife, and perhaps then, he would really be able to have faith in her love for him.


	23. Chapter 23

_So sorry about the wait! I promise to update soon. Thank you so much for your thoughts to those of you who are reviewing. You are the best!_

Chapter_ 23_

"Erik….Erik? Hello?"

Erik sat at his organ, and for a moment he thought the voice he heard was only in his head, but then he quickly realized that he indeed, had a visitor.

"Erik, it's me… Nadir. I must speak with you immediately!" he called.

Erik left his organ and headed for the sound of Nadir's voice. He found him pacing nervously by the motionless lake near the entrance to his home. Meg was sleeping, and he was glad that apparently Nadir's yelling had not awoken her.

"Nadir, what on earth are you doing here?" Erik asked confused by such a surprise visit. "I thought I was to come to your home when you had purchased the ring for Meg."

"Yes. Well, you were. I mean that's what we planned, and I do have the ring, but that's not why I am here," he stammered.

"Splendid, let's have a look at it!" Erik said enthusiastically.

"No!"

"No? Why not?" Erik demanded.

"I don't mean _no_. I mean you must please listen to me first….I bring news that I fear you will find most important and distressing," he said urgently.

"What is it you have come to tell me Nadir? Is there some problem with the wedding plans?" Erik asked, now judging by the look on his friend's face that he may have cause for concern.

"You have to send her back Erik, right away, you have to send Marguerite Giry back to the Opera Populaire!" he blurted out.

"What in God's name are you ranting about Nadir? Why would I have to send Meg back? We are going to married in only a matter of days!" Erik replied becoming more frustrated with every passing second.

"You don't understand Erik! The Marquis…. he is rounding up a huge hoard of men to search the Opera from top to bottom! He must have over one hundred men in his assembly. They begin in the morning. People say they may be looking for a body! They say that Marguerite is dead and may be somewhere in the opera house," he spouted breathlessly.

Erik stood silently. He blankly stared at the still lake in front of him. Nadir was perplexed by the expressionless look on his face. He displayed no emotion what so ever.

"Erik? Did you hear me? They are coming in the morning! They will certainly find your home and all your things! They will realize you are alive and start hunting for you again! At the very least you must leave this place tonight," Nadir begged frantically.

"I will not run from that pig-headed imbecile! I will not send Meg away to save my own neck either! I tell you, I will die at the hands of one of the Marquis' brutes before I will give up the chance to marry her," Erik roared.

"You will do not such thing!" a tiny but angry voice cried from behind him.

Erik spun around to find Meg standing behind him wrapped up in a robe, her hair tussled from sleep, and a very distraught look on her exquisite face.

"Meg…I didn't know you were there," Erik said startled.

Meg looked at Erik and then at Nadir. Erik could tell immediately that she was extremely uncomfortable standing before a stranger in her robe.

"Oh, um….Meg, this is Nadir Kahn, a very old friend of mine. He has been helping me with some of the…with some things I needed done," Erik said attempting to be polite in such an awkward situation.

"Pleased to meet you, Monsieur," Meg said blushing with a slight curtsy.

"The pleasure is mine, Mademoiselle," Nadir responded also bowing slightly.

"Please, do tell me…what is all this about people coming to look for me?" she asked directing the question to Nadir.

"Meg, I am not afraid of Marquis…" Erik interjected.

"He is coming with over a hundred men to search the opera for you! They will be here in the morning, and this stubborn fool will not listen to reason!" Nadir said over him.

"Be careful, Nadir," Erik growled.

"You are the one who needs to be careful! You are the one who is going to have your home plundered by a hoard of paid thugs in only a few hours!" Nadir spouted. "This is no time for your stubbornness, these people could kill you Erik…especially if they found that you have Marguerite!"

Meg looked at Erik and then back to Nadir, "But…if I were to return, then there would be no need for them to search for me, and Erik and his home would be safe?" she asked hopefully.

"I cannot say for sure Mademoiselle, but I would think that your assumption is correct," Nadir said solemnly.

"I hate to interrupt your cordial little conversation," Erik said annoyed, "but I have no intentions of giving up my bride out of fear for some pompous old liar!"

"Erik, you must control yourself, please. Just because I go back to opera does not mean that you are giving me up. I will do whatever I need to do to ensure your safety. I cannot bare the thought of people destroying your home or any harm coming to you because of me," Meg said with surprising composure.

"She is right Erik, listen to reason," Nadir chimed in, glad to have someone agree with him.

"You listen to reason! Meg and I are going to be married and no one is going to stand in the way of that!" Erik yelled quite wildly.

Meg walked over to Erik and placed her warm hand on his uncovered cheek. She knew that the thought of her going back frightened him immensely. She looked deeply into his eyes in hopes that he would see her sincerity.

"Erik, we can be married whenever you wish. But I cannot marry you if you are in prison or dead. If anything happened to you I would spend my life as a walking corpse, hollow and empty. I would have had to go back at some point anyway. This is what love is Erik, you will have to trust me," she said with great compassion.

Erik looked instantly defeated. He knew this was a fight that he could not win. His options were very limited. If he stayed in the catacombs, he would surely be putting himself and Meg directly in harms way. If they fled, they would have to spend their lives hiding like criminals.

Damn that Marquis, I swear I will kill him, Erik thought in the back of his mind.

"What will you tell everyone about your whereabouts?" he asked Meg, inadvertently admitting to the collapse of his will.

"I guess I will have to tell them the truth. I will say that I was kidnapped by a despicable man, and then I was rescued by a wonderful one," Meg said smiling at Erik and taking his hand.

"Yes….yes, you could just say that your rescuer would not reveal his name to you…that he wanted to remain anonymous!" Nadir added ardently. "But you must not let on that you have been here with Erik in any way. You _must_ act as though he does not exist. The Marquis will still want to search for your captor, so you must be very cautious."

Erik felt a pain in his chest when he heard Nadir's words. Meg would have to spend her days acting as if he did not exist.

I didn't exist before _her_, he thought.

"You must not delay Mademoiselle. You must make your presence known first thing in the morning. I am fairly certain that the search will be called off if you are no longer missing," Nadir said with great seriousness.

Meg nodded. She noticed that Erik looked very pale.

"I will not disturb you further, I am sure there are details you will need to discuss. Please forgive my intrusion so late in the evening," Nadir said as he began take his leave.

"Monsieur, please do not apologize. I cannot thank you enough for coming here to warn us," Meg said with genuine appreciation.

Nadir gave a small bow and then stopped, "I almost forgot," he said as he walked over to Erik. With his back turned to Meg he handed him something that she was unable to see. "Good evening to you both," he said before he took one of the gondolas and quickly made his way out of their sight.

Erik stood with his back turned to Meg. He stared in his hand at the sparkling facets of magnificent emerald ring that he had purchased for her. He had come so close to attaining his dream, and now it felt like it was being ripped from his grasp. A dark shadow of resentment seemed to over take him. Once again he felt as though the curse that had followed him his entire life had found him once more.

"I suppose you will be thrilled to return to land of the living, Marguerite. Won't it be lovely for you to once again gaze upon men with whole faces," he said coldly. "I am sure the Marquis will propose to you the moment he sees you. He is already telling the public that you are his fiancé."

"Erik, I do not care an ounce for the Marquis, and I assure you that I intend to make it abundantly clear to him that we are not in any way engaged," Meg retorted heatedly.

"Why wouldn't you want him? He is rich, handsome, and clearly in love with you. All the things that a young girl could want, he has," he baited her.

"I don't find him the least bit appealing, Erik. He is simply not the one I want," she said as he finally turned to face her.

Erik could hardly believe how she could be so stunning when her cheeks were flushed with irritation for him. He suddenly felt desperate to claim her for his own. He wanted to lock her away from the world and keep her all to himself.

"Why will you not just admit that some part of you is longing to return? I know that it must be true!" Erik demanded.

"I won't lie to you Erik. A part of me does want to return, but not for the reasons that _you_ seem to think," she replied honestly.

Erik suddenly wished he had not pressed so hard for the truth.

"Then what are your reasons Marguerite?" he asked with less fervor.

"I want to dance again, Erik, and that is all. When I picture a life with you, that is the only thing missing. It's part of me….it's part of my soul. I believe it is part of what made you drawn to me in the first place. Can you understand that?"

Erik knew that Meg was absolutely right in her assumption that her dancing drew him to her. He remembered how he had first seen her dancing in silence on the stage months ago, and how her beauty and fluid movements were able to lift his soul for the first time in years. How could he possibly deny her something she loved so much?

Unfortunately he realized that as long as Meg continued to dance, she would continue to be the light of the public's eye. There would always be men vying for her attention and trying to win her heart. As much as it thrilled him to know that he had something that all the men who walked above him wanted, he did not know how long he could stand to compete with them.

"I do understand your longing to return to the stage Marguerite. I feel the same connection to my music that you do to your dance. But you must understand that it is extremely unusual for a man's wife to continue to be a performer in an opera house," he paused for a moment and then continued, "Of course, I am an unusual man and this opera house is my home," he said reluctantly.

"Oh Erik, there is nothing about dancing that thrills me more than knowing you are there somewhere watching me. I want so much for you to pleased with me," she said reminding him once again of a little girl eager for his approval. "Besides, I know I cannot be a ballerina forever, and I do not want to spend my days as a ballet mistress like my mother did."

"If you return to performing, we will still be married? You will still be here with me when you are not rehearsing?" Erik asked with anticipation.

"Of course I will. I would marry you at this very moment if I could," she said.

"I cannot give you a wedding tonight Marguerite, but I can give you something else," he said as he took her fragile hand in his much larger one.

Erik slipped the royal emerald ring onto Meg's tiny finger, and then waited breathlessly for her reaction. He wished desperately for her to see this ring as token of his pure love and devotion to her. He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted but no words escaped them. She stood speechless for several moments.

"Dear God Erik," she whispered still unable to completely find her voice. "I have never seen anything like it, not even on display! It looks like something that should be on the hand of a queen!"

"A princess," he corrected her.

She looked at him with confusion, "What do you mean?"

"The ring, it belonged to the Persian Princess Perysatis," he said very plainly.

Meg stared down out the enormous shimmering emerald that seemed to catch every ray of candle light in the room. The diamond embellishment surrounding it made it sparkle even more. She could not fathom the idea that she was wearing something that had once been on the hand of a princess.

"Erik, I couldn't possibly accept this! I can't imagine the cost, and I don't deserve anything so extravagant," she said still not taking her eyes from her ring finger.

"You can accept it, and you will. Marguerite, as far as I am concerned you are far more of a princess that any woman who has ever lived and you deserve nothing less."

"But… I just…"

"Not another word about it. If I am to be your husband, Marguerite, you will have to learn to honor and obey me, and I insist that you wear it all the days of your life. Besides, my intentions for this ring are not completely honorable," Erik admitted.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Meg said perplexed.

"I mean that I fully intend for this ring to be a bit of a warning sign to any of the foolish suitors who come begging for your affection. Perhaps, you can tell them you are engaged to a dangerous sailor or soldier of some sort," he said playfully as he drew her into him.

"You are very clever, Monsieur, that must be why I love you so much," she replied laughing a little. "I would be the fool to ever take off this beautiful ring, and I never will."

Erik leaned down and kissed Meg softly on the lips.

"You will return to me tomorrow night?" he somehow asked and told her at the same time.

"Yes, as soon as I can, I promise."

Despite his fear and anger, Erik tried his best to seem content with the situation that he had been forced into. Although he wanted more than anything to trust Meg, his doubts were running ramped in his mind. He was terrified that the moment she left him, she would realize how ridiculous it was to ever even consider marrying him in the first place. He suddenly wished he had taken her when she had given him the opportunity. At least then she would have had some viable attachment to him. He wanted so much to claim her as his own, but time would not permit their marriage before she returned to the opera.

Perhaps, Erik thought, there may be a way to ensure that Meg will spend her day above the ground yearning for me as I will for her.

"Are you very tired, my dear?" Erik asked Meg kindly, but with roguish thoughts in the back of his mind. "You will only be able to sleep for a few more hours you know, and I think you probably should try to lie down," he said with no intentions of allowing her to sleep.

"I think I may be too excited to sleep, but I will try to lie down if you think it's best," she said lightly.

"I certainly do. Come with me, my dear," he said as he swept her up into his arms and walked her back to his bedroom.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Thank for all the great reviews! You are all so much fun! I am so happy you are enjoying the story. This chapter is short and steamy, so look out! XOXO**_

_**Gerardphantomhot- I really loved your cheer, it made me laugh a lot!**_

_**Chapter 24**_

Erik carefully laid Meg down in his warm bed, and then went to light another candle because the one on the nightstand was burning low. Meg continued to admire the radiant jewel on her hand, and could not help but imagine the Princess who once wore it. She had no idea how Erik could ever have attained such a ring, and even though she had tried to protest, she was thrilled that it was hers.

Erik looked over at Meg as she goggled wide-eyed at the ring he had given her and could not help but laugh a little to himself. She was truly glowing with happiness. Making her smile was enough to give purpose to his entire life.

"Oh Erik really, I can hardly believe it's mine," Meg said wistfully still staring at her finger.

He gazed at her as she lay in his bed and thought, _neither can I._

"I love it so much, but I am terrified that something might happen to it, or that someone may try to steal it away," she added concerned.

_So am I_, he thought with his eyes fixed on her.

"Erik, are you listening to me?" Meg asked, suddenly aware of the fact that he was not responding to anything she said.

"Forgive me, my dear. I _was _listening. I think sometimes I just become lost in your beauty," he answered kindly.

"I love you…so very much," she replied.

"Do you?" he said mischievously, as he walked over and sat next to her on the bed.

"More than anything," she said staring up at him with her sultry dark eyes.

He traced the outline of her neck with his finger, "Meg, I will miss you immensely tomorrow. I am afraid it shall be difficult for me to endure your leaving knowing that you are still not my wife."

"I am so sorry Erik, but I don't what else to do," she responded, feeling extremely guilty.

"Perhaps I can give you something to remember me by," he said in a seductive tone that almost made her dizzy.

Erik's finger now was outlining the stain skin on her collar bone, and his touch made her whole body yearn for more. He slowly allowed his finger to move further down to the crease in her robe, and he slid his hand inside. Meg began to breathe more heavily. Erik's hand caressed the soft skin around her breast, and a hot stirring sensation began to build in her stomach. She closed her eyes and bit her top lip. She was not sure what he was doing, but she knew she would not deny him anything that he wanted from her.

"Marguerite, look at me," Erik said firmly.

Meg opened her eyes as he continued to run his powerful hands over her chest. She felt her face blush as she looked into his gleaming green eyes. He gently began to pinch the satin flesh of her nipple and her body's arousing response made her let out a throaty moan of pleasure.

The manner in which Meg's body reacted to his touch made Erik long to ravage her right at that moment. She did not shy away from him, and the sounds of enjoyment that escaped her made him feel simply mad with lust. Her voluptuous breasts were the most erotic feeling that his hands had ever known, but he knew no matter what happened that he had to remain calm and in control. He was going to make sure that he was in Meg's mind while she was back at the opera, and he knew exactly how to accomplish this.

"Erik, oh my God," Meg whispered as his fondling of her breasts became much more aggressive.

Erik's hand continued down across Meg's trembling stomach. He leaned down and kissed her deeply. The heat and smell of her made Erik's body now begin to respond with unyielding carnal need.

He tried to keep his hand steady as he explored the tender skin beneath her abdomen. She continued to move and whimper with pleasure from his touch. She seemed so vulnerable to his every movement. He was completely intoxicated with his feeling of dominance over her, and he wanted more. Erik allowed his finger to find the warm wetness between Meg's legs, and it gratified him to know he had caused it. His head started spinning, but he forced himself to remain focused on her and not his own salacious urges.

Erik's hand began to move gently in a circular motion in the supple flesh between her legs, and Meg had never felt anything like it before. Her hips began to thrust against him and she suddenly felt as though she had no control over her own body.

"Erik," she managed to get out through her cries of delight.

"Tell me Meg, tell me how I make you feel," he demanded.

"I…I… I have never felt like this before, I…" her words were incoherent with the hot sensations that Erik was sending rushing through her body.

Suddenly to her great dismay he stopped what he doing. Meg felt like a speeding train that had just fallen off its track. She somehow instinctively knew that she wanted and needed more, much more. She looked at him with confusion and disappointment.

"Erik," she said almost panting.

"Yes, my dear, what is it? Look at me, and tell me what you want," he commanded.

"Please….please don't stop," she begged, frustrated and flushed with desire.

"Why… Meg? Tell me, say what it is you need from me," he said in a deep voice.

"Erik…I want…." she began, but she could not seem to bring herself to say the words.

He began to gently touch her again, and the rousing sensation gripped her entire body once more.

"Say it, Meg," Erik commanded harshly this time as the movements of his hand between her legs became much faster.

"God, Erik, I…I want you to keep touching me, and I never want you to stop," she moaned as she ached for more.

Suddenly a powerful feeling that she could not control began to well up inside her. Her hips began to pulse wildly, and she felt as though she might actually die of pleasure.

"Erik?" she cried out, almost frightened of what was happening to her, "Oh Erik!"

"Relax my dear, it's alright, just let it go," Erik said soothingly.

As if she had been waiting for his permission, Meg allowed the wild spasms of physical ecstasy to seize her body. Powerful sensations overcame her whole body again and again. She screamed violently unable to hold it in any longer.

"Yes, my love, yes," Erik encouraged as he continued to send her over the edge with his caress.

The way Meg cried out and her hips bucked against his hand made Erik crazed with passion. Nothing in the world excited him more than knowing she wanted him, and that he could make her respond to him in such a way.

When it was over, Meg lie on her back with her chest heaving as she inhaled deep breaths. Her face was flushed and her lips were reddened. She looked up at Erik as if he was some type of God, and he knew instantly that he had accomplished his goal.

"What in the name of heaven?" Meg breathed, "How could you possibly do that to me?"

Erik smiled at her from behind his white mask, "I read about _everything_," he replied with a smirk.

"You learned how to do _that _in a book?" Meg asked amazed.

"I have found over the years, Marguerite, that there is little knowledge that one cannot find in a book," he said as he leaned over and kissed her softly.

Erik continued to try to control himself because although Meg appeared to be quite satisfied, he was still aching with dire sexual need.

"So… you can do it again?" she asked with anticipation.

Her innocent question caused Erik to laugh out loud. It was a sound that was strange even to him. He had no memories of laughter in his entire life before Meg, but she never ceased to say things that he found extremely humorous.

"Yes my dear, as far as I know, I certainly can," he answered.

"How lovely, perhaps, you really _are_ a fantome," she said still beaming at him.

Meg let out a wide mouthed yawn like that of a cat curling up for an afternoon nap. She laid her head on the down pillow, and Erik could see that sleep would find her momentarily. He affectionately stroked her cheek, content for the moment that she would not forget all about him in a few hours when he had to let her go.


	25. Chapter 25

_**I'm so so sorry this took so long. I haven't been able to put up any new documents! This chapteris kind of a cliff hanger too, so don't hate me. Oh and don't freak out until the next chapter! Thanks for reading! Please review..XOXO**_

_**Chapter 25**_

Erik sat in front of the warm fire in Nadir's small but quaint living room. He was staring down and brushing his gloved finger across the brilliant emerald ring in his hand that had only remained on Meg's tiny finger for one night. He was already regretting several decisions he had made that morning and she had only been gone for a matter of hours.

He had woken her from a deep sleep, and brought her through the tunnels of the opera to an opening that led out to an empty alley on the side of the building. After all, she could not very well just show up in her room after being missing for days by way of the mirror. Besides, he was not sure he wanted to reveal the two way mirror to Meg just yet. He thought that perhaps it would be useful to him in the future.

As they journeyed back up to surface, Erik had explicitly described to her exactly how to get back, and he tried to make sure she had repeated back to him every turn. Despite this, he knew he would still probably be waiting nervously at the entrance for her later in the evening.

When she started to leave him, several tears had wet her lush dark lashes. She kissed him softly, and he had been secretly terrified that it would be their last.

"I cannot bear to leave you," she had said.

_Why the hell did he let her,_ he questioned himself.

Before she walked away into the early daylight, Erik's more logical side had explained to her that it was probably best if she did not wear the ring he had given her just yet. As it would be just one more detail for her to explain without giving away her true whereabouts. It was not the kind of jewel that people could overlook. When Meg slipped it off her finger and placed it in his hand, Erik felt as though at least ten years were instantly removed from his life.

She had told him she loved him and then turned and walked away. He watched her blond hair waving back and forth until she had completely disappeared from his sight. The pain in his heart was excruciating, and he was aware that this day would be the longest in all his life. He had every intention of lurking about the rafters all day and catching a glimpse of Meg whenever he could, but he was stopped before he could even begin to go back into the opera.

He knew instantly that the footsteps he heard behind him were those of Nadir, and turned to find the flustered Persian man running towards him.

"Erik! Erik! Are you mad? What are you doing out in the street?" he had said in a winded yet accusing tone.

"Calm down Nadir. You act as if I were out parading up and down right in front of the opera house. I was just taking Meg back, thanks to _you_, and now I am going back to spend what may be the most disturbing day of my life," he bitterly replied.

"You truly have a flare for the dramatic, don't you my friend," Nadir had told him sarcastically. "Erik, I think it is best if you come with me to my home just for the day. It still could be unsafe for you here, and spying on Meg all day will just put you in more danger."

"I have no intention of leaving, Nadir," Erik had said with conviction. "I must be here to watch over Meg."

"Erik, the worst thing that could happen for you and Meg would be for you to hear the Marquis professing his love to her and then come swooping out of the shadows to kill him. If you love Meg and you do not want to destroy what you have, you must understand that your temper cannot be trusted," Nadir had told him bluntly.

He and Erik argued for several more minutes until Nadir had finally been able to convince him that staying would put Meg in harms way. Reluctantly, Erik had given in, unable to be responsible for anything happening to her. Also, because he thought that perhaps having some company would make the hours until she returned pass more quickly.

They had ridden in Nadir's carriage on back roads all the way to his small cottage on the outskirts of town. As they road Nadir talked incessantly, but Erik had not heard a word that he said. His mind was flooded with images of Meg from the night before.

He could picture perfectly her flushed face in the candlelight, as he made her cry out with pleasure. He could almost feel her smooth moist skin on his hand, as her body quivered from his touch. He adored the knowledge that every inch of her was his. Never had he felt so much power over anyone. How he loved knowing that he could make her lose all control of herself. He had felt so confident at that moment that she would return to him, but now once again fear and doubt had captured his mind.

He was always extremelymeticulous about being impeccably groomed and dressed. However, this morning for the first time that he could remember, he chose not to bathe. When he had gone to wash, he could still faintly smell Meg's skin on his own. He simply could not stand to wash her scent from his body.

As Erik continued to relive the events of the night prior and the morning, Nadir walked into the living room carrying a trey of tea.

"You must stop obsessing, my old masked friend," Nadir said as he watched Erik gazing at the magnificent ring in his hand. "She will be back this evening and all your worrying will have been in vain. Really Erik, she will be your wife in a day's time, and not because you are forcing her to marry you. Will you have trust in her then?"

"Nadir, if you recall, the last time I chose to put my trust in a woman things did not happen as I had expected, so you will excuse me if I am the slightest bit wary of my current situation," Erik said flatly.

"How long will you force Marguerite to pay for the betrayal of another?" Nadir asked with a hint of irritation. "She is not Christine, Erik. She is not in love with another man, and she does not think you are some supernatural being. You are _the man_ she loves and _the man_ she wants to marry. Do not ruin what you have by living in fear of ghosts from the past," he said as he poured Erik a cup of tea.

"Don't you think I realize that Nadir? I know she is not Christine! For God's sake, she's nothing like her! Meg is stubborn where she was timid; she is fearless where Christine was terrified. She is filled with passionate fire, where Christine was empty and hollow," Erik said heatedly as he stood up and began to pace the length of the room.

"And thus, you cannot understand why she could love you when Christine did not," Nadir stated finishing the thought that Erik had no intention of voicing.

"Yes," Erik admitted turning to face him.

"But yet, somehow you know she does," he continued.

"Yes," he repeated with a deep sigh.

"Erik, instead of spending this day in dire fear, let us finalize the plans for your wedding tomorrow night. I think it will be much more productive than pacing the floor, and then when it gets dark I will bring you back to the opera and your fiancé," Nadir said with a slight grin.

_She is my fiancé_, Erik thought, secretly thrilled.

"I must agree with you again, Nadir. I will attempt to clear my head and focus on something useful," Erik said attempting to put the demons in his thoughts to sleep for the moment.

Hours later and well after six in the evening, Erik had just arrived back at the same entrance to the opera catacombs where he had told Meg good-bye that morning. He stepped just inside and decided to wait for her to return. She should be finishing dinner momentarily and then most of the ballet rats would go their separate ways to their rooms to gossip or to meet suitors. She should have no problem stealing away.

After about an hour of pacing nearly exhausted from anticipation, Erik had a suddenly disturbing thought.

_What if she has already come this way and she is waiting for me in mychambers?_

Erik quickly dashed through the dark corridors with a small torch hoping that when he reached his lair; he would find Meg there waiting for him. Unfortunately, minutes later when he reached his destination and called out for her there was no answer. He checked all the rooms and even the chase by the organ where she had once fallen asleep, but his home was silent and empty.

He was beginning to feel foolish for allowing Nadir to calm his fears of her leaving. He had spent the better part of the day planning for a wedding that may never take place, and dreaming of a life that may never occur.

_She should be here by now,_ he told himself.

Erik headed back through the shadows towards the entrance to the alley. He explored every dark corridor on his way that Meg could have possibly chosen on accident, but there was no sign of her. He started to feel anger stirring deep inside him, and he was sure now that she was not coming back.

When he reached the alley he looked out into the night and saw nothing but an abandoned street. His mind started reeling with what he would do, if his bride did not return to him. Erik found himself strangely comforted by the idea that he could slip into her dressing room and force her to come back with him if that was necessary. She clearly had not told anyone about him, or his home would already have been ransacked by the Marquis' thugs.

Several more hours had passed when Meg slipped though the shadows of the empty street on the side of the opera and into the hidden entrance that Erik had showed her that morning. She used to be horrified of the Paris streets after sunset, but after staying with Erik in the darkness of his home, she was no longer afraid of the night. She closed the door to the entrance behind her, and reached out for the torch that was suspended on the wall to light her way. She screamed when she felt a hand tightly grab her wrist.

"No need to be frightened, Marguerite," she heard Erik say icily. "It's only me, your fiancé, or did you forget already after your day in the world of the living?"

"Erik, I….I am so sorry it took me so long to return," she said, instantly nervous by the coldness in his voice. "I went to bed, and then I was going to sneak out, but…."

"But what, Marguerite?" he prodded angrily.

"Well… you see, Darcel, he insisted that he stay with me until I went to sleep. He was afraid that I would have nightmares from my….my ordeal. I tried to protest, but he wouldn't listen, and so I had to act asleep until he finally left my room," Meg said, and then waited for the jealous outburst that wouldfollow.

Erik pinned her up against the cold stone wall of the dimly lit corridor with great force. His green eyes were ablaze as he stared at her through his white mask. He held her hands above her head, and she was helpless against him.

"Did he touch you?" he roared mercilessly as his echo tumbled through the corridors. "Did he? Answer me!" he demanded.

"No…no Erik…of course not, he is my friend and he…he was just concerned about me. I promise," she pleaded.

"That's good… _for his sake_. Pray my dear that I do not find out otherwise or I swear to you that I will strangle the life out of that impish boy!" he shouted.

"Erik, why are you acting like this? Please, let me go," she begged.

"Odd… you did not ask me to let you go last night, when you were screaming my name wildly in bed, Marguerite," he said viciously.

Meg's cheeks blushed a deep crimson, and she suddenly felt the warmth of Erik's breath on her neck. Despite his brutish treatment,she remembered every wonderful detail of the night before. Although he still had her pinned against the wall, for some reason she was no longer felt frightened.

Erik noticed the look in Meg's eyes change from dismay to something else. He looked at her purple dress and the way it hugged her waist snuggly. A hint of cleavage rose and fell with each of her deep breaths, and Erik did not try to hide that he was taking in every inch of her voluptuous frame.

Before she had arrived he was desperate to know every detail of her day. He had planned on asking about everything she said and everything that anyone said to her in the opera. He wanted to know about the Marquis, her position as prima ballerina, and what the idiot managers had said to her. Yet now that Meg was in front of him. it seemed that all of these things could wait.

Still holding her hands above her head, Erik leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips pushing his large muscular body into hers. She quickly allowed his tongue to explore every inch of her velvety mouth. Erik could sense instantly that she wanted him, and it drove him nearly insane. He was tired of waiting, and today had nearly been the death of him. Perhaps tomorrow when Meg returned to the opera it would be with a slight soreness from him ravaging her.

Erik began to give in to his carnal urges. He layered Meg's neck with violent kisses and he grabbed her breasts with great ferocity. She could feel his hardened flesh pushing into her abdomen and his wildness for her caused her to moan with lust.

"I must have you, Marguerite," he whispered in her ear. "I can wait no longer, it must be tonight."

Meg tried to speak and think clearly through Erik's assault of her neck with his tongue, "Erik... but you said we had to be married, you said you wanted me to be pure, and…"

She could not finish her sentence because he was urgently lifting up her skirts and beginning to make his way up to the warmth between her legs. He began to attack her senses with the same motions of his finger that had sent her over the edge the night before. She again started to cry out with the amazing sensation.

"You want me to have you, don't you, Marguerite?" he said in a raspy voice while glaring straight into her eyes as he watched her squirm against his touch.

He watched with insurmountable pleasure as she jerked with every movement of his hand. How sensitive she was to him, and how ready she was for him to take her. He could tell by her moans that he was about to make her climax again, so he stopped the rhythmic motion that was driving her mad.

"Erik…. why?" she looked at him confused.

"Not yet, my love….tonight you are not going anywhere unless I go with you," he said with a smirk, as he removed his hands from beneath her skirts.

He took Meg by the hand and led her as hurriedly as he could without dragging her back to his chambers where he planned to at last know love in a way he never had before.


	26. Chapter 26

_**I know it has been too long! Forgive me... I have been out of town. Please review and enjoy!**_

_**Chapter 26**_

As Erik guided Meg through the shadows of cellar tunnels pulling her with great urgency, she started to become wary of the reasons for his decision not to wait to consummate their relationship until their wedding night. She looked at him with his back turned to her as they rushed to his bed, and could not understand what would have changed his mind after he had been so adamant about the idea of them being married first.

_Perhaps he no longer intends to marry me. Perhaps now that he knows that I still want to dance in the opera he has no desire for me to be his wife._

"Erik, please stop for a moment," she said feeling the need to confront him about his sudden change of heart.

"Yes, my dear," he said turning to face her with his cool green-eyed stare that seemed even more intense in the flickering light of torch he carried.

"Erik, I need to know why….why you no longer feel the need to wait until we are wed to…to…"

"Make love?" he said finishing her sentence, as he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a deeply amorous kiss.

Pulling away from him slightly and looking up at him she replied, "Yes… it was so important to you that our marriage be pure only yesterday. I don't understand why now you do not seem to care about it being such."

Erik new exactly why he wanted to take Meg this very night, and it had nothing to do with not wanting their marriage to be pure. He simply could not endure another day of her being away from him knowing that he had no genuine claim to her. However, he was certain that this would not satisfy Meg as a reason to bypass their wedding night, so he decided it was best to simply avoid her question.

"Well…why haven't _you_ felt that it was important for us to be married, Marguerite? Don't you want your first experience of physical love to be with your husband?" he asked, trying to turn the conversation around so he would not have to admit the reasons for his actions.

Meg paused for a moment and then gently brushed Erik's black hair away from his face; she looked at him lovingly with her soft brown eyes and said, "You ask a valid question my love, and the only answer I can give is that in my heart and in my soul you _are_ my husband. My mind has been filled with you and no other man since the first night you spoke to me on the roof of this opera. I have already given myself to you completely mentally and emotionally, so I have felt no need to deny you physically."

Erik's face instantly changed from a look of slight defensiveness to a look of utter disbelief. Meg's reasons for _not_ waiting until they married were based on true devotion and love, and his were based on selfish jealousy. Erik had not felt such self loathing in all his afflicted existence. He truly felt unworthy of the unconditional love that she enveloped him in. It amazed him how the beauty that exuded from within her could make her exquisite face and perfect features pale in comparison.

He grabbed her and held her tightly as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"Meg, how can you love such a demon?" he asked with his face buried in the blond locks of hair on her neck. "I wanted to make love to you tonight so I could claim you, to ensure that you would belong to me, and no one else."

Meg returned Erik's embrace, "Erik, you are not a demon. You mustn't brutalize yourself so. I am sure there is a part of me that feels the same way about you," she said quietly.

Erik's gaze met hers, "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I know it is terrible of me, but I think it would be somehow satisfying to know that I am the _only_ woman you have ever been with," she admitted shyly.

"Marguerite Giry, it seems I find more love for you every time you speak. When you are here with me and I can see your face and touch you, it is not difficult for me to feel your love. But it seems that the moment you are out of my sight my mind and soul are taken over by hideous doubts that tell me you will never return to me," he confessed holding her petite head in his hands.

"I am yours Erik, and some day you will know it. You will believe in it," Meg replied, and tenderly kissed him on the lips.

"I was wrong to attempt to forgo our wedding night, Meg, and it is something that is oddly of great importance to me."

"Why do you value the idea so much, my love? I assume it is not out of your religious convictions," she asked slightly in jest because she knew Erik had little faith in anything other than his music.

Erik let out a deep sigh, and Meg knew that he was about to reveal some truth to her. In the yellow light of the tunnels she felt as though they were the only two people in the world.

"I am not altogether certain," he replied pulling away from her gently, beginning his usual pacing back and forth as he did when he was in deep thought. "The idea of becoming one with another person was a dream for me that I thought would never come true. Most women that I have encountered have been terrified of me, even my own mother. You see Meg… I have watched many a married man squander the love of a good wife with adultery or mistreatment. I used to say to myself in the back of my mind that if ever given the chance to find love, I would honor and cherish it like the precious gift that it is. I vowed that if only given the opportunity I would never take my love for granted, and I would always try to make things as perfect as possible. Perhaps, this is why I place such significance on the whole notion," he concluded as he turned to hear her reaction.

"You set a very high standard for yourself, I'm afraid," Meg said with an understanding smile. "Does this mean that we are no longer in such a rush?"

"Indeed, we are not," Erik replied grandly extending his arm for her. "I pray, my dear, that you tell me every detail of your day, to keep my mind off of any other lustful thoughts that may try to enter my mind."

When they had finally made their way back to Erik's chambers, he had had immediately made Meg some tea and sat her down to listen to every encounter that she had experienced during her day in the opera.

"Tell me everything, my dear, no detail is too small," he said inquisitively.

"Well," Meg began, "I hardly know where to begin. Nothing was as I expected."

"Whatever do you mean?" Erik asked perplexed.

"I was so nervous about telling everyone where I had been and what had happened to me. I was so sure that people would ask a million questions, and that I would confuse my story, but…."

"People were not concerned… they did not ask questions?" Erik asked still a little confused.

"No… no… people were concerned, especially Darcel, Liana and Madam Badaeau. They were all gravely worried about me. But mostly… everyone seemed to keep asking if I had seen the Marquis, or if I had talked to him."

Erik felt his blood beginning to boil inside his skin. Just the sound of his name on Meg's lips made him furious, but he would try to control himself for the duration of her story.

"Go on, my dear," he said trying to sound calm.

"Oh yes, here is the best part of the whole day," Meg said excitedly. "The new opera…the managers brought me into their office and told me all about it. It is called _Le Belle Helene_…do you know it?"

"In fact, I do." Erik replied slowly sipping his tea. "Prince Paris and his seduction of the married Helen of Troy leading to the ten year Trojan War… it has a quite decent score for a new opera."

"Yes, well you will never believe what I am about to tell you. Monsieur Jacques has already asked me to play the leading role of Helen! I don't even have to audition! He said that with all the scandal that has surrounded my disappearance people will be lining up at the door to see me. Although… it is a very unorthodox way to get a part, but isn't it wonderful jus the same?" she asked pleading for approval with her big doe eyes.

_Wonderful, my wife will be playing the role of the most beautiful woman in all of ancient Greece… so much for keeping her hidden away,_ Erik thought.

"I can think of no one who would be more appropriate," he said attempting to share in her enthusiasm. "But Meg… is there not an aria sung by Helen in the second act?"

Meg looked down and her faced flushed with red, "There is… and I know you must think I would be just dreadful, but it is very short, and most of her lines are only one or two at a time."

"I was not aware that you sang, Marguerite," Erik responded.

"I am not surprised, monsieur," she replied snidely, sipping her tea and glaring at him, "I am not nearly as talented vocally as some."

Erik decided based on Meg's temperament that it was best not to continue the conversation on its current course. He exactly where it was going.

"And what of the Marquis, my dear, did you ever encounter him?" he inquired hoping to change the subject.

"I did, and Erik he is not as dreadful as either of us thought," she said displaying that clearly his plan had been successful. "He came to speak to me when I was leaving the managers' offices. I was quite cold to him at first, but then once he explained everything, I realized that it was all a misunderstanding."

"Um…forgive me, but what exactly did he explain my love?"

"Well, I confronted him about saying that we were engaged when we are not. He told me that he feared that after my disappearance without any husband or family, no one was taking responsibility to search for me the way he thought that they should. So he said that we were engaged so that _he _could take up the matter himself without seeming as if he were over stepping his bounds. Wasn't that ever so kind?"

Erik felt as though he might be sick. How could Meg fall for such lies?

_Clever old bastard_, he thought. _He's got her thinking he's a saint for God's sake._

"He said he was just so glad to see that I had returned and remained unharmed. He asked several questions about my abductor, but I told him that he kept me blind folded," she continued.

"Very good, Marguerite, it seems as though you had a very full day indeed," Erik said swallowing all of the angry words he wanted to shout about the Marquis.

"There is one more tiny detail, Erik," Meg said hesitantly.

"Yes," Erik said raising the one eye brow that Meg could see.

"The Marquis asked me… if he could tell the public that are wedding was postponed because of the kidnapping. He assured me it was just to save face and that very soon he would announce that the engagement was called off," she said quickly.

"And what did you say to this?" Erik said as his voice began to rise.

"I told him I would think about it," she said quietly.

"Think about his Marguerite, you will be _my_ wife very soon, and no matter what lies this fool has filled your head with, I won't have it! Do you hear me? I won't!" he roared.

"Fine," Meg cried back, "but he was only trying to help me, and I don't see what harm it could do!"

Erik crossed the room to Meg, and grabbed her by the shoulders roughly. He looked straight into her eyes.

"You will tell him the first time you see him that this cannot continue, and that you will not see him again!" he growled.

"I will tell him, but not seeing him will be difficult," Meg replied meeting his angry gaze.

"Why is that?"

"Because…he is the new patron of the opera," she said, knowing his reaction would be violent.

Erik picked up a candelabra from the floor next to them and heaved it across the room. He grabbed Meg with both arms tightly and put his lips up to her ear.

"I don't care if he _is_ the new patron, if he knows what is good for him, he will stay away from my wife!" he hissed.


	27. Chapter 27

**_Wow! You guys love to jump all over Meg don't cha? She is young and naïve, but don't worry she is always sees the light eventually. Please, please review! This chapter is super fluffy!_**

_**Chapter 27**_

Meg squinted as she looked out into the nearly empty auditorium of the opera house. She could barely make out the chiseled face of the Marquis de Condorcet as he sat alone in the middle of an otherwise vacant row of seats. He had been watching their first rehearsal since earlier that morning and Meg knew that he would approach her as soon as he had the opportunity.

_You'll just have to tell him directly that no more of this wedding business can go on_, she thought, trying to gather her courage.

Meg thought of Erik and how angry he had been the night before when she had told him of the Marquis plans to announce that their wedding had been postponed. He had demanded that she tell him immediately that this could not continue and she had agreed. Although the Marquis seemed harmless enough, Erik was going to be her husband and she could not ignore his wishes.

Moments later Meg found herself confronted by the very man she had hoped to avoid as she left the stage for a short break in rehearsals.

"Marguerite, you are looking quite well today, I trust everything is getting back to normal for you?" the Marquis said as he bowed to her formally.

As usual he was dressed impeccably. He was an incredibly handsome older gentleman and in a small way he reminded her of Erik.

"Yes sir, I am most well," she replied shyly.

"Good to hear it. I had hoped that perhaps you would join me to dine this evening," he said casually.

"Monsieur Marquis, I appreciate your kind offer, but I am otherwise engaged this evening," Meg said with eyes on the floor.

"Oh?" the Marquis said raising both his eyebrows.

"Yes, and I am also afraid Monsieur, that I cannot consent to your wishes of announcing our nuptials as being postponed either."

"I see. You must understand that this seriously grieves me Mademoiselle. It will be a very large embarrassment for me to announce that we are not to be married… after the way I adamantly conducted the search for you after your disappearance. I had hoped you could appreciate my situation more," he said with slight irritation.

"Forgive me sir, I simply have no choice in the matter," Meg answered with a hint of guilt.

"I am most seriously displeased Marguerite. I thought at the very least you could do me this small favor. It is not as if you are promised elsewhere, so I cannot see the problem with my request," the Marquis continued.

Meg looked up and met his gaze at the mention of being of promised to another man, thus giving herself away to him without realizing it.

"Again Monsieur, I beg your apologies, but I simply cannot consent to it, Good day," she said, and then began to hurry past him.

"Marguerite," the Marquis said, causing her to turn and face him again.

"Be aware that I am a very powerful man. It is not in your best interest to vex me," he said with sudden coldness.

Meg only nodded and then quickly dashed away. She could not wait to get out of his looming presence.

Several hours later Meg found her way back to her dressing room after a long day of rehearsals. She had sung only a few of her lines the whole time praying in the back of mind that Erik was not in the theatre somewhere watching her and comparing her pathetic voice to the elegance of Christine's.

_Why did her voice have to be so perfect? I don't have even the slightest hope of sounding decent next to her, _she thought.

Meg closed the door behind her; she was looking forward to resting in her bed until the time when she would sneak out of the opera to the side alley where hopefully Erik would be waiting for her. She desperately wished that when she told him about her encounter with the Marquis that he would no longer be angry with her.

Meg began to change from her rehearsal clothes when she noticed a cream colored note that sat on her pillow. She walked over and unfolded it.

_**My love,**_

**_A carriage waits for you in the alley. Come as soon as you can. I will be there when you arrive at your destination._**

_**Affectionately yours, **_

_**OG**_

_A carriage? What in the world could he have planned?_

Meg's anticipation began to get the best of her. She bathed hastily and paced the floor of her dressing room waiting for the opportunity to leave her room and go to the carriage that Erik had waiting for her.

Erik sat quietly in the tiny room adjacent to the sanctuary of the small chapel that Nadir had secured for his marriage to Meg. It was a quaint old church just outside of the city and he knew that Meg would appreciate its subtle elegance. Everything was finally prepared, the chapel, the clergyman, the dress, and the flowers, all that he needed now was the bride. Erik stared at the winter white gown that hung from the mirror across from him. The imported silk was flawless, and it was ornately covered in an overlay of Italian lace. Erik was sure that there was not a dress of its equal in all of France, which was just what he wanted for Meg.

Every minute that he spent waiting for her arrival seemed like hours. He had walked through the sanctuary and scrutinized every flower and candle placement at least ten times already. He could not wait to see Meg's face when she saw it. The sanctuary was decorated beautifully in candles and white roses that put the flowers he had once covered her dressing room with to shame.

When Erik at last heard the clamoring of a carriage pulling up outside his heart began to pound. He could hear Meg and Nadir talking faintly from inside the room. A few minutes later there was a soft knock at the door. Erik opened it, and was once again he was taken aback by the woman who stood before him. Meg was wearing a simple blue gown, and her hair was pulled back in a white ribbon. Her pale skin had a pink glow and she seemed to be sharing in his excitement. Her eyes were sparkling, and Erik reached out and took her hand without speaking. He led her into the little room and nodded to Nadir, then closing the door behind them.

Before Erik could even say anything Meg had already found her way across the room to the wedding gown that hung from the mirror. Her tiny fingers brushed over the silk and lace gently.

"I hope it will do," Erik said quietly, feeling suddenly very nervous to even be in her presence.

"Oh, it so lovely," Meg said breathlessly. "I had no idea a dress could be so exquisite… and it is for me?"

"Oh course it's for you, my dear," Erik said with a smile. "I hope, Marguerite, that you be willing to put it on and meet me in the sanctuary very soon after."

Erik waited with hesitation for Meg to respond. He knew he was springing this on her quite suddenly, and he was deeply concerned that she may be a bit overwhelmed.

Meg turned to face him, "And we will be married this evening?" she said concealing the childlike giddiness that was consuming her.

"If you will still have me," Erik responded.

Meg rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his uncovered cheek and his lips several times with extreme happiness.

"I most certainly will," she said continuing to kiss him over and over.

"Take your time dressing my dear. I will be waiting for you, as I have been all my life just outside that door in the sanctuary."

Erik kissed Meg gently on the forehead and then slipped out of the room. He placed his hand on his left breast pocket to feel the emerald ring still there waiting to be placed on Meg's finger once again. He walked into the sanctuary and saw Nadir and the old white haired clergyman making small talk at the front of the room by the alter.

About thirty minutes later Erik was beginning to get impatient. The anticipation of the entire day was beginning to take its toll on his disposition.

"What could she possibly be doing? How long does it take to slip on a dress?" Erik asked pacing in the front of the chapel while Nadir watched him with great amusement.

"Patience Erik… she's a young lady, and this is her wedding day…er…_night_. She'll want everything to be perfect, not a hair out of place. You must give her time," he said somewhat condescendingly.

"Yes, yes, I know you are right," Erik replied, continuing to circle the same area of the floor.

His mind wandered about aimlessly, until he found himself thinking of Antoinette Giry, Meg's mother. She was the woman who had saved him from a life of humiliating misery and who had brought him to live in the Opera Populaire. She was the woman to whom he owed his life, and now the woman to whom he would owe his every happiness. He could not help but wonder if she would approve of the match between himself and Meg. He could only assume she would not. For what mother would want to see her only daughter married to a monster that dwells in the cellars beneath the opera?

_Oh Antoinette, I owe you so very much. I fear I will never be able to repay you. I promise I will spend my life trying to make your daughter happy though I know I will never deserver her._

Erik's thoughts were interrupted when the one of the large wooden double doors at the rear of the sanctuary began to open. He nearly collapsed at the sight of Meg, his bride, in the lavish wedding gown that he had acquired for her. The dress fit her perfectly. Its bodice clung to her chest and hips as though it had been painted on, yet without being too tight or snug. The full skirt of the gown swirled around her and gave her the air of a queen about to take her throne. Meg had styled her gold locks in shiny ringlets that fell down around her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes smoldered in the yellow glow of the candle light, and Erik could see that she was deeply moved by the sight of chapel before her.

Meg simply could not believe the sheer beauty of the room that she had just entered. The entire sanctuary was ablaze with the soft light of at least a thousand candles in bronze candelabras. White roses abounded wherever she looked. They went all up and down the isle in front of her, and huge arrangements of them decorated the alter next to where Erik stood. She truly felt as thought she had walked into a fairy tale. Of all the amazing decorations in the room, the one that stood out the most to her was the man at the front of the church whose eyes did not leave hers.

He was dressed in black with a crisp white shirt and cravat. The white mask that covered one side of his face only seemed to add to his incredible handsomeness. His thick black hair was combed neatly back, and his green eyes were dazzling. His stare seemed to pierce her very soul.

"Dear God, Erik, I should have known you would pick no less than the most stunning bride in all of France," Nadir whispered also clearly stunned by the sight of Meg in her wedding gown.

Nadir's words snapped Erik out of his dream like state and he adjusted his coat and waited for her to come towards him.

The clergyman slowly began to take his place behind the alter as Meg walked down the isle to stand beside Erik. He reached and took her hand. This was the moment he had had wished for more than anything in his entire life. It had finally arrived. He wanted so badly to be able to hold this memory somewhere in his mind so that he could always picture it perfectly. Meg was such a heavenly vision, but it was the love in her eyes that Erik could not help but see that brought him more elation than he had ever known.

The elder clergyman went through the traditional wedding vows in a painfully prolonged fashion. However, Erik realized that this was to be expected from a man who must have been nearing the grave more so than anyone he had ever seen. He did not mind the lengthy ceremony because he felt as though he could have gazed at his bride for hours and remained content. Erik could hardly breathe when he slipped the emerald ring back on Meg's finger.

Before the ceremony was complete and they were officially man and wife, Erik took Meg's hands in his, and the clergyman gave him the opportunity to speak.

"Meg, my beautiful princess, I could describe your fairness for days on end as you are quite possibly the most divine creature I have ever laid eyes on. However, more radiant than your enchanting face is your kind loving heart that has entranced my soul. I could never hope to deserve a moment of your time, let alone a lifetime of your love. You have granted me a happiness that I could never have imagined in my most pleasurable dreams. Here and now I devote myself to you and you alone. I will spend my life cherishing you and trying to bring to your life a fraction of the joy that you have brought to mine," he vowed as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Both he and Meg came to each other and their lips met in a kiss of pure love and devotion. They were lost in the moment and in one another until they heard the old man behind them say, "Well then, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Erik took Meg's face in his hands, "My wife, my wife… I shall never grow tired of saying it!"

"Congratulations to you both!" Nadir said patting Erik on the shoulder and kissing Meg on the hand. "I have to say Erik; no one deserves this blessing more."

"Thank you Nadir, thank you for everything," Erik responded with more contentment in his eyes than Nadir had ever seen.

"It was truly my pleasure. I will go ready the carriage to bring you and your new bride back to the opera," he said as he walked out of the sanctuary.

Erik thanked the clergyman profusely who continued to smile and nod at him although Meg was sure the old man seemed quite confused by the whole situation.

When Erik turned to his ravishing new bride he proclaimed, "You are all mine now, my dear Marguerite…forever."

Meg looked up at him with a sly grin and a twinkle in her dark eyes, "I am not _all_ yours yet, my Phantom husband. We have not yet had our wedding _night._"

Erik felt a sudden shudder of physical and emotional excitement run through his entire body, for he knew exactly what she was referring to.

"Already I stand corrected by wife. I must take you home immediately to remedy this situation," he said as he swept her off her feet and walked her back down the isle.


End file.
